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THE \yAYFAE^R;S LIBRARY 

t 

THE BRONTES 

and their Circle 



Clement Shorter 





• NEW YORK • 

E.R BUTTON & C9 



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Gift 
a. L. Mencken. 



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PREFACE TO POPULAR EDITION 

This hook, hrst published in 1S96. has had a large sale in 
Great Britain and the United States. It owes its success 
to the large mass of fresh and valuable material first 
made available in its pages. I have not at any time 
professed to make an appraisement of Charlotte Bronte's 
work, and still less to write her life. The former has 
been done in our day by Sir William Robertson Nicoll, 
Miss Mar}' F. Robinson, ^liss May Sinclair, and many 
others: the latter once and for all by ^Irs. Gaskell 
whose biography will never be superseded. This book 
owes whatever interest it may possess to the many 
letters to Mr. Smith Williams, to ^Ir. Bronte, and to 
Emily which it contains — letters which Mrs. Gaskell 
had not the good fortune to see. That these letters 
are supremel}- interesting few will deny. The manner 
in which they are here arranged has been variously esti- 
mated, but I naturally prefer to accept the judgment of 
the most accomplished of living biographers. Sir George 
Trevelyan. In a letter to the author he once ^NTOte, not 
in response to a gift of a copy but quite spontaneously: — 

" We have lately read aloud for the second time your 
Bronte book; let alone private readings. It is unique 
in plan and excellence, and I am greatly obliged to you 
for it. Apart from the pleasure of the book, the form of 
it has always interested me as a professional biographer. 
It certainly is novel ; and in this case I am prett\' sure 
that it is right." 

My cordial thanks are due to Mr. C. W. Haliield, of 
Pershore, for reading the proof-sheets. 



C. K. S. 



March 1914. 



The Brontes and Their Circle 



First Proposal of Marriage [Henry Nussey) . . March 1 839 

Anne Bronte becomes governess at Blake Hall, Mrs. Ing- 
ham's ........ April 1839 

Charlotte governess at Mrs. Sidgwick's at Stonegappe, and at 

Swarcliffe, Harrogate ...... 1839 

Second Proposal of Marriage {Mr. Bryce) .... 1839 

Charlotte, Emily, and Anne at Haworth .... 1840 

Charlotte's second situation as governess with Mrs. White, 

Upperwood House, Rawdon .... March 1841 

Charlotte and Emily go to School at Brussels . February 1842 

Miss Branwell died at Haworth ... 29 Oct. 1842 

Charlotte and Emily return to Haworth . . . Nov. 1842 

Charlotte returns to Brussels ..... Jan. 1843 

Returns to Haworth ...... Jan. 1844 

Visits Miss Nussey at Brookroyd ..... 1844 

Anne and Branwell at Thorp Green . . . . .1845 

Charlotte visits Mary Taylor at Hunsworth .... 1845 

Publication of Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell . . 1846 

Charlotte Bronte visits Manchester with her father for 
see an Oculist .... 

" Jane Eyre " published [Smith & Elder) 

" Wuthering Heights " and " Agnes Grey " [Newby) 

Charlotte and Emily visit London 

" Tenant of Wildfell Hall " 

Branwell died. 

Emily died .... 

Anne Bronte died at Scarborough 

" Shirley " published 

Visit to London, first meeting with Thackeray 

Visit to London, sits for Portrait to Richmond 

Third Offer of Marriage [James Taylor) 

Visit to London for Exhibition . 

" Villette" published 

Visit to London 

Visit to Manchester to Mrs. Gaskell 

Marriage .... 

Death ..... 

Patrick Bronte died 



1846 
1847 



him to 
Aug. 
Oct. 

Dec. 1847 

July 1848 

. 1848 

24 Sept. 1848 

19 Dec. 1848 

28 May 1849 
. 1849 

Nov. 1849 
1850 
1851 
1851 
1852 
1853 
1853 

29 June 1854 
31 March 1855 

7 June 1861 




THE BRONTES 
AND THEIR CIRCLE 

PRELIMINARY 

MRS. GASKELL 

In the whole of English biographical literature there is 
no book that can compare in widespread interest with 
the Life of Charlotte Bronte by Mrs. Gaskell. It has 
held a position of singular popularity for nearly sixty 
years; and while biography after biography has come 
and gone, it still commands a place side by side with 
Bosweirs Johnson and Lockhart's Scott. As far as mere 
readers are concerned, it may indeed claim its hundreds 
as against the tens of intrinsically more important rivals. 
There are obvious reasons for this success. Mrs. Gaskell 
was herself a popular novelist, who commanded a very 
wide audience, and Cranford, at least, has taken a place 
among the classics of our literature. She brought to 
bear upon the biography of Charlotte Bronte all those 
literary gifts which made the charm of her seven 
volumes of romance. And these gifts were employed 
upon a romance of real life, not less fascinating than any- 
thing which imagination could have furnished. Charlotte 
Bronte's success as an author turned the eyes of the 
world upon her. Thackeray had sent her his Vanity 
Fair before he knew her name or sex. The precious 
volume was inscribed " With the grateful regards of W. M. 
Thackeray, July i8, 1848." And Thackeray did not 
send many inscribed copies of his books even to success- 
ful authors. Speculation concerning the author of Jane 
Eyre was sufficiently rife during those seven sad years of 



The Brontes andf Their Circle 

literary renown to make a biography imperative when 
death came to Charlotte Bronte in 1855. All the world 
had heard something of the three marvellous sisters, 
daugliters of a poor parson in Yorkshire, going one after 
another to their death with such melancholy swiftness, 
but leaving — two of them, at least — imperishable work 
behind them. The old. almost blind, father and the 
bereaved husband read the confused eulogy and criticism 
sometimes with a sad pleasure at the praise, oftener 
with a sadder pain at the grotesque inaccuracy. Small 
wonder that it became impressed upon Mr. Bronte's 
mind that an authoritative biography w^as desirable. 
His son-in-law, Mr. Arthur Bell Nicholls, who lived wdth 
him in the Haworth parsonage during the six weary 
years which succeeded Mrs. Nicholls's death, was not 
so readily Avon to the unveiling of his wife's inner life; 
and although we, who read Mrs. Gaskeil's Memoir, have 
every reason to be thankful for Mr. Bronte's decision, 
peace of mind would undoubtedly have been more 
assured to Charlotte Bronte's surviving relatives had the 
most rigid silence been maintained. The book, when it 
appeared in 1837, gave infinite pain to a number of 
people, including Mr. Bronte and Mr. Nicholls; and 
Mrs. Gaskeil's subsequent experiences had the effect of 
persuading her that all biographical literature was in- 
tolerable and undesirable. She would seem to have 
given instructions that no biography of herself should 
be wTitten; and thus it is that the w^orld lacks any 
authoritative record of one of the most fascinating women 
of her age. The loss to literature has been forcibly 
brought home to the present wTiter, who has in his 
possession a bimdle of letters written by Mrs. Gaskell to 
numerous friends of Charlotte Bronte during the pro- 
gress of the biography. They serve, all of them, to 
impress one with the singular charm of the woman, her 
humanity and breadth of sympathy. They make us 
think better of Mrs. Gaskell, as Thackeray's letters to 
Mrs. Brookfield make us think better of the author of 
Vanity Fair. 

Apart from these letters, a journe\' in the footsteps, as 
it were, of Mrs. Gaskell reveals to us the remarkable con- 
scientiousness with which she set about her task. It 
would have been possible, with so much fame behind her, 
to have secured an equal success, and certamly an equal 
pecuniary reward, had she merelv written a brief mono- 

8 



Preliminary 



graph with such material as was voluntarily placed in her 
hands. Mrs. Gaskell possessed a higher ideal of a bio- 
grapher's duties. She spared no pains to find out the 
facts; she visited every spot associated with the name of 
Charlotte Bronte — Thornton, Haworth. Cowan Bridge, 
Birstall, Brussels — and she wrote countless letters to the 
friends of Charlotte Bronte's earlier days. 

But why, it may be asked, was Mrs. Gaskell selected 
as biographer ? The choice was made by Mr. Bronte, 
and not, as has been suggested, by some outside in- 
fluence. \Mien Mr. Bronte had once decided that there 
should be an authoritative biography — and he alone 
was active in the matter — there could be but little doubt 
upon whom the task would fall. Among all the friends 
whom fame had brought to Charlotte. ^Irs. Gaskell stood 
prominent for her litersiry gifts and her large-hearted 
sympathy. She had made the acquaintance of Miss 
Bronte when the latter was on a visit to Sir James Kay 
Shuttleworth . in 1830J and a letter from Charlotte to 
her father, and others to ^Ir. W. S. Williams, indicate 
the beginning of a friendship which was to leave so 
permanent a record in literary history: — 

TO W. 8. WILLI AAIS 

2ot/i November, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — You said that if I wished for any copies 
of Shirley to be sent to individuals I was to name the 
parties. I have thought of one person to whom I should 
much like a copy to be offered — Harriet Martineau. For 
her character — as revealed in her works — I ha^e a lively 
admiration, a deep esteem. Will you inclose with the 
\olume the accompanying note? 

The letter you for^varded this morning was from Mrs. 
Gaskell, authoress of Mary Bartari ; she said I was not to 
answer it. but I cannot help doing so. The note brought 
the tears to mv eves. She is a 2:ood, she is a o:reat woman. 
Proud am I that I can touch a chord of sympathy in souls 
so noble. In Mrs. Gaskeir$ nature it mournfully pleases 
me to fanc}* a remote affinity to my sister Emily. In 
Miss Martineau's mind I ha\e always felt the same, though 
there are wide differences. Both these ladies are above 

9> 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

me — certainly far my superiors in attainments and ex- 
perience. I think I could look up to them if I knew 
them. — I am^ dear sir^ yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

November 2gth, 1849. 

Dear Sir, — I inclose two notes for postage. The note 
you sent yesterday was from Harriet Martineau; its con- 
tents were more than gratifying. I ought to be thankful, 
and I trust I am, for such testimonies of sympathy from 
the first order of minds. When Mrs. Gaskell tells me she 
shall keep my works as a treasure for her daughters, and 
when Harriet Martineau testifies affectionate approbation, 
I feel the sting taken from the strictures of another class 
of critics. My resolution of seclusion withholds me from 
communicating further with these ladies at present, but 
I now know how they are inclined to me — I know how 
my writings have affected their wise and pure minds. 
The knowledge is present support and, perhaps, may be 
future armour. 

I trust Mrs. Williams's health and, consequently, your 
spirits are by this time quite restored. If all be well, 
perhaps I shall see you next week. — Yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

January isty 1850. 

My dear Sir, — May I beg that a copy of Wuthering 
Heights may be sent to Mrs. Gaskell; her present address 
is 3 Sussex Place, Regent's Park. She has just sent me 
the Moorland Cottage, I felt disappointed about the 
publication of that book, having hoped it would be offered 
to Smith, Elder & Co.; but it seems she had no alterna- 
tive, as it was Mr. Chapman himself who asked her to 
write a Christmas book. On my return home yesterday 
I found two packets from Comhill directed in two well- 

10 



Preliminary 



known hands waiting for me. You are all ver>' very good. 

I txust to have derived benefit for my visit to Miss 
Martineau. A visit more interesting I certainly never 
paid. If self-sustaining strength can be acquired from 
example, I ought to have got good. But my nature is 
not hers; I could not make it so though I were to submit 
it seventy times seven to the furnace of affliction^ and 
discipline it for an age under the hammer and anvil of toil 
and self-sacrifice. Perhaps if I was like her I should not 
admire her so much as I do. She is somewhat absolute, 
though quite unconsciously so; but she is likewise kind, 
with an affection at once abrupt and constant, whose 
sincerity you cannot doubt. It was delightful to sit near 
her in the evenings and hear her converse, myself mute. 
She speaks with what seems to me a w^onderful fluency 
and eloquence. Her animal spirits are as unflagging as 
her intellectual powers. I w^as glad to find her health 
excellent. I believe neither solitude nor loss of friends 
would break her down. I saw some faults in her, but 
somehow I liked them for the sake of her good points. It 
gave me no pain to feel insignificant, mentally and 
corporeally, in comparison with her. 

Trusting that you and yours are well, and sincerely 
wishing you all a happy new year, — I am, my dear sir, 
yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO REV. P. BRONTE 

The Briery, Windermere. 
August loth, 1850. 

Dear Papa, — I reached this place yesterday evening at 
eight o'clock, after a safe though rather tedious journey. 
I had to change carriages three times and to wait an hour 
and a half at Lancaster. Sir James came to meet me at 
the station; both he and Lady Shuttleworth gave me a 
ven- kind reception. This place is exquisitely beautiful, 
though the weather is cloudy, misty, and stormy; but the 
sun bursts out occasionally and shows the hills and the 
lake. Mrs. Gaskell is coming here this evening, and one 

II 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

or two other people. Miss Martineau, I am sorry to say, 
I shall not see^ as she is already gone from home for the 
autumn. 

Be kind enough to write by return of post and tell me 
how you are getting on and how you are. Give my kind 
regards to Tabby and Martha^ and — Believe me^, dear 
papa, your affectionate daughter^ C. Brontk. 

And this is how she writes to Ellen Nussey from 
Haworth, on her return, after that first meeting: — 

Lady Shuttleworth never got out, being confined to the 
house with a cold : but fortunately there was Mrs. Gaskell, 
the authoress of Mary Barton^ who came to the Brierv' the 
day after me. I was truly glad of her companionship. 
She is a woman of the most genuine talent, of cheerful, 
pleasing^ and cordial manners^ and. I believe, of a kind 
and good heart. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

September 20th, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — I herewith send you a very roughly 
written copy of what I have to say about my sisters. 
When you have read it you can better judge whether the 
word " Notice " or " Memoir '' is the most appropriate. 
I think the former. Memoir seems to me to express a 
more circumstantial and different sort of account. My 
aim is to give a just idea of their identity^ not to write 
any narration of their simple, uneventful lives. I depend 
on you for faithfully pointing out whatever may strike 
you as faulty. I could not write it in the conventional 
form — that I found impossible. 

It gives me real pleasure to hear of your son's success. 
I trust he may persevere and go on improving, and give 
his parents cause for satisfaction and honest pride. 

I am truly pleased, too, to learn that Miss Kavanagh 
has managed so well with Mr. Colburn. Her position 
seems to me one deserving of all sympathy. I often think 

12 



Pi eliminary 

of her. Will her novel soon be published? Somehow I 
expect it to be interesting. 

I certainly did hope that Mrs. Gaskell would oj5er her 
next work to Smith & Elder. She and I had some con- 
versation about publishers — a comparison of our literarv^ 
experiences was made. She seemed much struck with the 
differences between hers and mine^ though I did not enter 
into details or tell her all. Unless I greatly mistake^ she 
and you and Mr. Smith would get on well together; but 
one does not know what causes there may be to prevent 
her from doing as she would wish in such a case. I think 
Mr. Smith will not object to my occasionally sending her 
any of the Cornhill books that she may like to see. I have 
already taken the liberty of lending her Wordsworth's 
Prelude^ as she was saying how much she wished to have 
the opportunity of reading it. 

I do not tack remembrances to Mrs. Williams and your 
daughters and Miss Kavanagh to all my letters, because 
that makes an empty form of what should be a sincere 
wish^ but I trust this mark of courtesy and regard, though 
rarely expressed^ is always understood. — Believe me, 
yours sincerely. C. Bronte. 

Miss Bronte t\y\ce visited Mrs. Gaskell in her Man- 
chester home, first in 1S31 and afterwards in 1853, and 
concerning this latter visit w^e have the following letter: — 

TO MRS. GASKELL, MA^XHESTER 

Haworth, April 141/1, 1853. 

My dear Mrs. Gaskell, — Would it suit you if I w^ere 
to come next Thursday, the 21st? 

If that day tallies with your convenience, and if my 
father continues as well as he is now, I know of no engage- 
ment on my part which need compel me longer to defer 
the pleasure of seeing you. 

I should arrive by the train which reaches Manchester 
at 7 o'clock P.M. That, I think, would be about your tea- 
time, and, of course, I should dine before leaving home. 
I always like evening tor an arrival; it seems more cosy 

13 



The Brontes and 1 heir Circle 

and pleasant than coming in about the busy middle of 
the day. I think if I stay a week that will be a very long 
visit; it will give you time to get well tired of me. 

Remember me very kindly to Mr. Gaskell and Marianne. 
As to Mesdames Flossy and Julia, those venerable ladies 
are requested beforehand to make due allowance for the 
awe with which they will be sure to impress a diffident 
admirer. I am sorry I shall not see Meta. — Believe me. 
my dear Mrs. Gaskell, yours affectionately and sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

In the autumn of 1853 Mrs. Gaskell returned Charlotte 
Bronte's visit at Haworth. She was not, however, at 
Charlotte's wedding in Haworth Church. 1 

TO MISS WOOLER 

Haworth, September Sth, 1853. 

My dear Miss Wooler, — Your letter was truly kind, 
and made me warmly wish to join you. My prospects, 
however, of being able to leave home continue very un- 
settled. I am expecting Mrs. Gaskell next week or the 
week after, the day being yet undetermined. She was to 
have come in June, but then my severe attack of influenza 
rendered it impossible that I should receive or entertain 
her. Since that time she has been absent on the Continent 
with her husband and two eldest girls: and just before I 
received yours I had a letter from her volunteering a visit 
at a vague date, which I requested her to fix as soon as 
possible. My father has been much better during the 
last three or four days. 

When I know anything certain I will write to you again. 
— Believe me, my dear Miss Wooler, yours respectfully 
and affectionately, C. Bronte. 

But the friendship, which commenced so late in Chax- 
lotte Bronte's life, never reached the stage of downright 
intimacy. Of this there is abundant evidence in the bio- 

1 Although so stated by Professor A. W. Ward in the Didionafy 

0/ National Biography , vol. xxi. 

14 



Preliminary 



graphy; and Mrs. Gaskell was forced to rely upon the 
correspondence of older friends of Charlotte's. Mr. 
George Smith, the head of the firm of Smith and Elder, 
furnished some twenty letters. Mr. W. S. Williams, to 
whom is due the credit of '' discovering " the author of 
Jane Eyre, lent others; and another member of Messrs. 
Smith and Elder's staff, Mr. James Taylor, furnished 
half-a-dozen more; but the best help came from another 
quarter. 

Of the two schoolfellows with whom Charlotte Bronte 
r^ularly corresponded from childhood till death, Mary 
Taylor and Ellen Nussey, the former had destroyed 
every letter; and thus it came about that by tax the 
larger part of the correspondence in Mrs. Gaskell's 
biography was addressed to Ellen Nussey, now as '' My 
dearest Nell,'' now simply as ** E." The unpublished 
correspondence in my hands, which refers to the bio- 
graphy, opens with a letter from Mrs. Gaskell to 
Miss Nussey, dated July 1855. It relates how, in 
accordance with a request from Mr. Bronte, she had 
undertaken to write the work, and had been over to 
Haworth. There she had made the acquaintance of 
Mr. NichoUs for the first time. She told Mr. Bronte 
how much she felt the difficulty of the task she had 
undertaken. Nevertheless, she sincerely desired to 
make his daughter's character known to all who took 
deep interest in her writings. Both Mr. Bronte and 
Mr, NichoUs agreed to help to the utmost, although 
Mrs. Gaskell was struck by the fact that it was Mr. 
NichoUs, and not Mr. Bronte, who was more intellec- 
tually alive to the attraction which such a book would 
have for the public. His feelings were opposed to any 
biography at all; but he had yielded to Mr. Bronte's 
*' impetuous wish," and he brought do\\Ti all the 
materials he could find, in the shape of about a dozen 
letters. Mr. NichoUs, moreover, told Mrs. Gaskell that 
Miss Nussey was the person of all others to apply to; 
that she had been the friend of his wife ever since 
Charlotte was fifteen, and that he was wTiting to Miss 
Nussey to beg her to let Mrs. Gaskell see some of the 
correspondence. 

But here is Mr. Nicholls's actual letter, unearthed after 
fort^^ years, as well as earlier letters from and to Miss 
Nussey, which would seem to radicate a suggestion upon 
the part of " E " that some attempt should be made to 

IS 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

furnish a biography of. her friend — if only to set at rest, 
once and for all, the speculations of the gossiping com- 
munity with whom Charlotte Bronte's personality was 
still shrouded in mystery ; and indeed it is clear from 
these letters that it is to Miss Nussey that we really owe 
Mrs. Gaskell's participation in the matter: — 

TO REV. A. B. XICHOLLS 

Brookroyd, June 6th, 1855. 

Dear Mr. Nicholls^ — I have been much hurt and 
pamed by the perusal of an article in Sharpe for this 
months entitled " A Few Words about Jane Eyre'' You 
will be certain to see the article^ and I am sure both you 
and Mr. Bronte will feel acutely the misrepresentations 
and the malignant spirit which characterises it. Will you 
suffer the article to pass current without any refutations ? 
The writer merits the contempt of silence^ but there will 
be readers and believers. Shall such be left to imbibe a 
tissue of malignant falsehoods^ or shall an attempt be 
made to do justice to one who so highly deserved justice, 
whose very name those who best knew her but speak with 
reverence and affection.^ Should not her aged father be 
defended from the reproach the writer coarsely attempts 
to bring upon him.^ 

I wish Mrs. Gaskell^ who is every way capable^ \\ould 
undertake a reply^ and would give a sound castigation to 
the writer. Her personal acquaintance with Haworth, 
the Parsonage^ and its inmates^ fits her for the task, and 
if on other subjects she lacked information I would gladly 
supply her with facts sufficient to set aside much that is 
asserted, if you yourself are not provided with all the 
information that is needed on the subjects produced. 
Will you ask Mrs. Gaskell to undertake this just and 
honourable defence? I think she would do it gladly. 
She valued dear Charlotte, and such an act of friendship, 
performed with her ability and power, could only add to 
the laurels she has already won. I hope you and Mr. 
Bronte are well. My kind regards to both. — Believe me, 
vours sincerely, E. Nussey. 

16 



Preliminary 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ Jtme iitk, 1855. 

Dear Miss Nussey^ — We had not seen the article in 
Sharpe, and very possibly should not^ if you had not 
directed our attention to it. We ordered a copy^ and 
have now read the '' Few Words about Jane Eyre'' The 
writer has certainly made many mistakes^ but apparently 
not from any unkind motive^ as he professes to be an 
admirer of Charlotte's works^ pays a just tribute to her 
genius^, and in common with thousands deplores her un- 
timely death. His design seems rather to be to gratify 
the curiosity of the multitude in reference to one who had 
made such a sensation in the literary world. But even if 
the article had been of a less harmless character^ we 
should not have felt inclined to take any notice of it, as 
by doing so we should have given it an importance which 
it would not otherwise have obtained. Charlotte herself 
would have acted thus ; and her character stands too high 
to be injured by the statements in a magazine of small 
circulation and little influence — statements which the 
writer prefaces with the remark that he does not vouch 
for their accuracy. The many laudatory notices of 
Charlotte and her works which appeared since her death 
may well make us indifferent to the detractions of a few 
envious or malignant persons^ as there ever will be such. 

The remarks respecting Mr. Bronte excited in him only 
amusement — indeed^ I have not seen him laugh as much 
for some months as he did while I was reading the article 
to him. We are both well in healthy but lonely and 
desolate. 

Mr. Bronte unites with me in kind regards. — Yours 
sincerely, A. B. Nicholls. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ July 24th, 1855. 

Dear Miss Nussey^ — Some other erroneous notices of 
Charlotte having appeared;, Mr. Bronte has deemed it 

17 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

advisable that some authentic statement should be put 
forth. He has therefore adopted your suggestion and 
apphed to Mrs. Gaskell^ who has undertaken to wTite a 
life of Charlotte. Mrs. Gaskell came over yesterday and 
spent a few hours with us. The greatest diiticulty seems 
to be in obtaining materials to show the development of 
Charlotte's character. For this reason Mrs. Gaskell is 
anxious to see her letters, especially those of any early 
date. I think I understood you to say that you had 
some; if so, we should feel obliged by your letting us have 
any that you may think proper, not for publication, but 
merely to give the wTiter an insight into her mode of 
thought. Of course they will be returned after a little 
time. 

I confess that the course most consonant with my own 
feelings would be to take no steps in the matter, but I 
do not think it right to ofier any opposition to Mr. Bronte's 
wishes. 

We have the same object in view, but should diiler in 
our mode of proceeding. Mr. Bronte has not been very 
well. Excitement on Sunday (our Rush-bearing) and 
Mrs. Gaskell's visit yesterday have been rather much for 
him. — BeUeve me, sincerely yours, 

A. B. NiCHOLLS. 

Mrs. Gaskell, however, wanted to make Miss Nussey's 
acquaintance, and asked if she might visit her; and 
added that she would also like to see Miss Wooler, 
Charlotte's schoolmistress, if that lady were still alive. 
To this letter Miss Nussey made the following reply: — 

TO MRS. GASKELL, Manchester 

Ilkley, July 26//z, 1855. 

My dear Madam, — Owing to my absence from home 
your letter has only just reached me. I had not heard of 
Mr. Bronte's request, but I am most heartily glad that he 
has made it. A letter from Mr. Nicholls was for\varded 
along with yours, which I opened first, and was thus pre- 
pared for your communication, the subject of which is of 

18 



Preliminary 

the deepest interest to me. I will do ever>'thing in my 
power to aid the righteous work you have undertaken, but 
I feel my powers ver^- limited, and apprehend that you 
may experience some disappointment that I cannot con- 
tribute more lars^elv the information which vou desire, I 
possess a great many letters (for I have destroyed but a 
small portion of the correspondence), but I fear the early 
letters are not such as to unfold the character of the wTiter 
except in a few points. You perhaps may discover more 
than is apparent to me. You will read them wnth a pur- 
pose — I perused them only with interests of affection. I 
will immediately look over the correspondence, and I 
promise to let you see all that I can confide to your 
friendly custody. I regret that my absence from home 
should have made it impossible for me to have the pleasure 
of seeing you at Brookroyd at the time you propose. I 
am engaged to stay here till Monday week, and shall be 
happy to see you any 'day you name after that date, or, if 
more convenient to you to come Friday or Saturday in 
next week, I will gladly return in time to give you the 
meeting. I am staying with our schoolmistress. Miss 
Wooler, in this place. I wish her very much to give me 
leave to ask you here, but she does not yield to my wishes; 
it would have been pleasanter to me to talk with you 
among these hills than sitting in my home and thinking of 
one who had so often been present there. — I am, my dear 
madam, yours sincerely, Ellen Nussey. 

Mrs. Gaskell and Miss Xussey met, and the friendship 
which ensued was closed only by death ; and indeed one 
of the most beautiful letters in the collection in my hands 
is one signed '' Meta Gaskell," and dated Januaiy 22, 
1866. It tells in detail, with infinite tenderness and 
pathos, of her mother's last moments. 1 That, however, 
was ten years later than the period with which we are 
concerned. In 1856 Mrs. Gaskell was energetically 
engaged upon a biography of her friend which should 
lack nothing of thoroughness, as she hoped. She 

^ '* Mama's last days/* it runs, " had been full of loving thought 
and tender help for others. She was so sweet and dear and noble 
beyond words." 

19 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

claimed to have visited the scenes of all the incidents in 
Charlotte's life, " the two little pieces of private gover- 
ness-ship excepted/' She went one day with Mr. Smith 
to the Chapter Coffee House, where the sisters first stayed 
in London. Another day she is in Yorkshire, where she 
makes the acquaintance of Miss Wooler, which per- 
mitted, as she said, '' a more friendly manner of writing 
towards Charlotte Bronte's old schoolmistress." Again 
she is in Brussels, where Madame Heger refused to see 
her, although M. Heger was kind and communicative, 
" and very much indeed I both like and respect him." 
Her countless questions were exceedingly interesting. 
They covered many pages of note-paper. ' Did Bran- 
well Bronte know of the publication of Ja/ie Eyre J' she 
asks, ''and how did he receive the news?" Mrs. 
Gaskell was persuaded in her own mind that he had 
never known of its publication, and we shall presently 
see that she was right. Charlotte had distinctly in- 
formed her, she said, that Bran well was not in a fit 
condition at the time to be told. *^ Where did the girls 
get the books which they read so continually ? Did 
Emily accompany Charlotte as a pupil when the latter 
went as a teacher to Roe Head ? Why did not Bran well 
go to the Royal Academy in London to learn painting ? 
Did Emily ever go out as a governess ? What were 
Emily's religious opinions ? Did she ever make friends ? ' ' 
Such were the questions which came quick and fast to 
Miss Nussey, and Miss Nussey fortunately kept her 
replies. 

TO MRS. GASKELL, Manchester 

Brookroyd, October 22nd, 1856. 

My dear Mrs. Gaskell, — If you go to London pray 
try what may be done with regard to a portrait of dear 
Charlotte. It would greatly enhance the value and 
interest of the memoir, and be such a satisfaction to 
people to see something that would settle their ideas of 
the personal appearance of the dear departed one. It 
has been a surprise to every stranger, 1 think, that she 
was so gentle and lady-like to look upon. 

Emily Bronte went to Roe Head as pupil when Charlotte 
went as teacher; she stayed there but two months; she 

20 



Preliminary 



never settled^ and was ill from nothing but home-sickness. 
Anne took her place and remained about two years. Emily 
was a teacher for one six months in a ladies' school in 
Halifax or the neighbourhood. I do not know whether 
it w^as conduct or want of finances that prevented Bran- 
well from going to the Royal Academy. Probably there 
were impediments of both kinds. 

I am afraid if you give me my name I shall feel a pro- 
minence in the book that I altogether shrink from. My 
very last wish would be to appear in the book more than 
is absolutely necessary. If it wxre possible, I would 
choose not to be known at all. It is my friend only that 
I care to see and recognise, though your framing and 
setting of the picture will very greatly enhance its value. 
— I am^ my dear Mrs. Gaskell^ yours very sincerely^, 

Ellen Nussey. 

The book was published in two volumes, under the 
title of The Life of Charlotte Bronte, in the spring of 1857- 
At first all w^as well. Mr. Bronte's earliest acknowledg- 
ment of the book w'as one of approbation. Sir James 
Shuttleworth expressed the hope that Mr. Nicholls would 
'' rejoice that his wife would be know^n as a Christian 
heroine who could bear her cross with the hrmness of a 
martyr saint.'' Canon Kingsley wrrote a charming letter 
to Mrs. Gaskell, published in his Life, and more than 
once reprinted since. 

" Let me renew our long interrupted acquaintance/' he 
writes from St. Leonards, under date May 14th, 1857, 
" by complimenting you on poor Miss Bronte's Life. 
You have had a delicate and a great work to do, and 
you have done it admirably. Be sure that the book 
will do good. It will shame literary people into some 
stronger belief that a simple, virtuous, practical home 
life is consistent with high imaginative genius; and it 
will shame, too, the prudery of a not over cleanly though 
carefully white-washed age, into believing that purity 
is now (as in all ages till now) quite compatible with 
the knowledge of evil. I confess that the book has made 
nie ashamed of myself. Jane Eyre I hardly looked into, 
very seldom reading a work of fiction — yours, indeed, 
and Thackeray's, are the only ones I care to open. 
Shirley disgusted me at the opening, and I gave up the 

21 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

writer and her books with a notion that she was a person 
who liked coarseness. How I misjudged her! and 
how thankful I am that I never put a word of my mis- 
conceptions into print, or recorded my misjudgments of 
one who is a whole heaven above me. 

" Well have you done your work, and given us the 

Ficture of a valiant woman made perfect by suffering, 
shall now read carefully and lovingly every word she 
has written, especially those poems, which ought not to 
have fallen dead as they did, and which seem to be (from 
a review in the current Fraser) of remarkable strength 
and purity.*' 

It w^as a short-lived triumph, however, and Mrs. 
Gaskell soon found herself, as she expressed it, " in a 
veritable hornet's nest." Mr. Bronte, to begin with, 
did not care for the references to himself and the sug- 
gestion that he had treated his wife unkindly. Mrs. 
6askell had associated him with numerous eccentricities 
and ebullitions of temper, which during his later years 
he always asserted, and undoubtedly with perfect truth, 
were, at the best, the fabrications of a dismissed servant. 
Mr. Nicholls had also his grievance. There was just a 
suspicion implied that he had not been quite the most 
sympathetic of husbands. The suspicion was abso- 
lutely ill-founded, and arose from Mr. Nicholls's intense 
shyness. But neither Mr. Bronte nor Mr. Nicholls gave 
Mrs. Gaskell much trouble. They, at any rate, were 
silent. Trouble, however, came from many quarters. 
Yorkshire people resented the air of patronage with 
which, as it seemed to them, a good Lancashire lady had 
taken their county in hand. They were not quite the 
backward savages, they retorted, which some of Mrs. 
Gaskell's descriptions in the beginning of her book 
would seem to suggest. Between Lancashire and York- 
shire there is always a suspicion of jealousy. It was 
intensified for the moment by these sombre pictures of 
" this lawless, yet not unkindly population." i A son- 
in-law of Mr. Redhead wrote to deny the account of that 
clergyman's association with Haworth. " He gives 
another as true, in which I don't see any great difference." 

^ " Some of the West Ridingers are very angry, and declare they 
are half-a-century in civilisation before some of the Lancashire 
folk, and that this neighbourhood is a paradise compared with 
some districts not far from Manchester.*' — Ellen Nussey to Mrs. 
Gaskell, April i6, 1859. 

22 



Preliminary 



Miss Martineau wrote sheet after sheet explanatory of 
her relations with Charlotte Bronte. '' Two separate 
householders in London each declares that the first inter- 
view between Miss Bronte and Miss Martineau took 
place at her house." In one passage Mrs. Gaskell had 
spoken of wasteful young servants, and the young 
servants in question came upon Mr. Bronte for the 
following testimonial: — 

Haworth^ August ijihy 1857. 

I beg leave to state to all whom it may concern, that 
Nancy and Sarah Garrs, during the time they were in my 
service, were kind to my children, and honest, and not 
wasteful, but sufficiently careful in regard to food, and all 
other articles committed to their charge. 

P. Bronte, A.B., 
Incumbent of Haworth, Yorkshire, 

Three whole pages were devoted to the dramatic 
recital of a scandal at Haworth, and this entirely dis- 
appears from the third edition. A casual reference to 
a girl who had been seduced, and had found a friend in 
Miss Bronte, gave further trouble. '' I have altered the 
word ' seduced ' to ' betrayed,' " writes Mrs. Gaskell 
to Martha Brown, '' and I hope that this will satisfy 
the unhappy girl's friends." But all these were small 
matters compared with the Cowan Bridge controversy 
and the threatened legal proceedings over Branwell 
Bronte*s suggested love affairs. Mrs. Gaskell defended 
the description in Jane Eyre of Cowan Bridge with 
peculiar vigour. Mr. Cams Wilson, the Brocklehurst 
of Jane Eyre, and his friends were furious. They 
threatened an action. There were letters in the Times 
and letters in the Daily News. Mr. Nicholls broke 
silence — the only time in fifty years that he did so — 
with several admirable letters to the Halifax Guardian, 
The Cowan Bridge controversy was a drawm battle, in 
spite of numerous and glowing testimonials to the virtues 
of Mr. Cams Wilson. Most people who know anything 
of the average private schools of half a century ago are 
satisfied that Charlotte Bronte's description was sub- 
stantially correct. '' I want to show you many letters," 
writes Mrs. Gaskell, *' most of them praising the char- 

23 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

acter of our dear friend as she deserves, and from people 
whose' opinion she would have cared for, such as the 
Duke of Argyll, Kingsley, Greig, etc. Many abusing me. 
I should think seven or eight of this kind from the Cams 
Wilson clique/' 

The Branwell matter was more serious. Here Mrs. 
Gaskell had, indeed, shown a singular recklessness. 
The lady referred to by Branwell was Mrs. Robinson, 
the wife of the Rev. Edmund Robinson of Thorp Green, 
and afterwards Lady Scott. Anne Bronte was gover- 
ness in her family for four years, and Branwell tutor to 
the son for more than tvvo years. Branwell, under the 
influence of opium, made certain statements about his 
relations with Mrs. Robinson which have been effectually 
disproved, although they were implicitly believed by 
the Bronte girls, who, womanlike, were naturally ready 
to regard a woman as the ruin of a beloved brother. 
The recklessness of Mrs. Gaskell in accepting such 
inadequate testimony can be explained only on the 
assumption that she had a novelist's satisfaction in the 
romance which the " bad woman " theory- supplied. 
She wasted a considerable amount of rhetoric upon it. 
*' When the fatal attack came on,'' she says. " his 
pockets were found filled with old letters from the 
woman to whom he was attached. He died! she lives 
still — in May Fair. I see her name in county papers, 
as one of those who patronise the Christmas balls ; and 
I hear of her in London drawing-rooms " — and so on. 
There were no love-letters found in Branwell Bronte's 
pockets.i When Mrs. Gaskell's husband came post- 
haste to Haworth to ask for proofs of Mv<>. Robinson's 
complicity- in Branwell's downfall, none were obtainable. 
I was assured by Sir Leslie Stephen that his father, Sir 
James Stephen, was employed at the tune to make care- 
ful inquiry-, and that he and other eminent lawyers came 
to the conclusion that it was one long tissue of lies or 
hallucinations. The subject is sufficiently sordid, and 
mdeed almost redundant in any biography of the 
Brontes; but it is of moment, because Charlotte Bronte 

^ • To this bold statement [i.e. that love-letters were found in 
Branwell's pockets) ^Martha Brown gave to me a flat contradiction, 
declaring that she was employed in the sick room at the time, and 
had personal knowledge that' not one letter, nor a vestige of one. 
from the lady in question, was so found." — Leyland, The Bronte 
Family, vc»l. ii. p. 284. 

24 



Preliminary 



and her sister^ were so thoroughly persuaded that a 
woman was at the bottom of theu* brother's ruin; and 
this behef Charlotte impressed upon all the iriends who 
were nearest and dearest to her. Her letters at the time 
of her brother's death are full of censure of the supposed 
wickedness of another. It was a cruel infamy that the 
word of this wretched boy should have been so powerful 
for mischief. Here, at any rate. ^Irs. Gaskell did not 
show* the caution which a masculine biographer, less 
prone to take hterally a man's accounts of his amours, 
would imdoubtedly have displayed. 

Yet, when all is said. ^Irs. Gaskell had done her work 
thoroughly and well. Lockhart's Scotf and Froudes 
Cavlyle are examples of great biographies which called 
for abundant censure upon their publication: yet both 
these books will live as classics of their kind. To be 
interesting, it is perhaps indispensable that the biogra- 
pher should be indiscreet, and certainly the Branweli 
incident — a matter of two or three pages — is the only 
part of Mrs. Gaskell 's biography in which indiscretion 
becomes indefensible. And for this she suffered cruelly. 
■ I did so tr\- to tell the truth." she said to a friend. '' and 
I believe noiv I hit as near to the truth as any one could 
do." "I weighed even,- line with my whole power and 
heart." she said on another occasion. " so that every 
line shotild go to its great purpose of making her known 
and valued, as one who had gone through such a terrible 
life with a brave and faithful heart." And that clearly 
Mrs. Gaskell succeeded in doing. It is quite certain 
that Charlotte Bronte would not stand on so splendid a 
pedestal to-day but for the single-minded devotion of her 
accomplished biographer. 

It has sometimes been implied that the portrait drawn 
by Mrs. Gaskell was far too sombre, that there are 
passages in Charlotte's letters which show that ofttimes 
her heart was merr\' and her life stifficiently cheerful. 
That there were long periods of gaiety for all the three 
sisters, surely no one ever doubted. To few people, 
fortunately, is it given to have lives wholly without 
happiness. And yet, when this is acknowledged, how 
can one say that the picture was too gloomy ? Taken 
as a w^hole. the life of Charlotte Bronte was among the 
saddest in literature. At a miserable school, vrhere she 
herself was unhappy, she saw her tw^o elder sisters 
stricken down and carried home to die. In her home 

25 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

was the narrowest poverty. She had, in the years when 
that was most essential, no mother's care; and perhaps 
there was a somewhat too rigid disciplinarian in the 
aunt who took the mother's place. Her second school 
brought her, indeed, two kind friends; but her shyness 
made that school-life in itself a prolonged tragedy. Of 
the two experiences as a private governess I shall have 
more to say. They were periods of torture to her sensi- 
tive nature. The ambition of the three girls to start a 
school on their own account failed ignominiously. The 
suppressed vitality of childhood and early wornanhood 
made Charlotte unable to enter wath sympathy and 
toleration into the life of a foreign city, and Brussels 
was for her a further disaster. Then within two years, 
just as literary fame was bringing its consolation for the 
trials of the past, she saw her two beloved sisters taken 
from her. And, finally, when at last a good man won 
her love, there were left to her only nine months of happy 
married life. '* I am not going to die. We have been 
so happy." These words to her husband on her death- 
bed are not the least piteously sad in her tragic story. 
That her life w-as a tragedy, was the opinion of the 
woman friend with whom on the intellectual side she had 
most in common. Miss Mary Taylor wrote to Mrs. 
Gaskell the following letter from New Zealand upon 
receipt of the Life : — 

Wellington^ 30/A July 1857. 

My dear Mrs. Gaskell^ — I am unaccountably in 
receipt by post of two vols, containing the Life of C. 
Bronte. I have pleasure in attributing this compliment 
to you; I beg, therefore, to thank you for them. The 
book is a perfect success, in giving a true picture of a 
melancholy life, and you have practically answered my 
puzzle as to how you would give an account of her, not 
being at Hberty to give a true description of those around. 
Though not so gloomy as the truth, it is perhaps as much 
so as people will accept without calling it exaggerated, 
and feeling the desire to doubt and contradict it. I have 
seen two reviews of it. One of them sums it up as ** a 
life of poverty and self-suppression,'' the other has nothing 
to the purpose at all. Neither of them seems to think it 

26 



Preliminary 



a strange or wrong state of things that a woman of first- 
rate talents^ industry, and integrity should live all her life 
in a walking nightmare of " poverty and self -suppression." 
I doubt whether any of them will. 

It must upset most people's notions of beauty to be told 
that the portrait at the beginning is that of an ugly 
woman.i I do not altogether like the idea of publishing 
a flattered likeness. I had rather the mouth and eyes had 
been nearer together, and shown the veritable square face 
and large disproportionate nose. 

I had the impression that Cartwright's mill was burnt in 
1820 not in 181 2. You give much too favourable an 
account of the black-coated and Tory savages that kept 
the people down, and provoked excesses in those days. 
Old Roberson said he '' would wade to the knees in blood 
rather than the then state of things should be altered/' — 
a state including Corn law, Test law, and a host of other 
oppressions. 

Once more I thank you for the book — the first copy, I 
believe, that arrived in New Zealand. — Sincerely yours, 

Mary Taylor. 

And in another letter, w^ritten a little later (28th 
January 1858), Miss Mary Taylor writes to Miss Ellen 
Nusse}^ in similar strain: — 

Your account of Mrs. Gaskell's book was very interest- 
ing [she says]. She seems a hasty, impulsive person, and 
the needful drawing back after her warmth gives her an 
inconsistent look. Yet I doubt not her book will be of 
great use. You must be aware that many strange notions 
as to the kind of person Charlotte really was will be done 
away with by a knowledge of the true facts of her life. I 
have heard imperfectly of farther printing on the subject. 
As to the mutilated edition that is to come, I am sorry for 
it. Libellous or not, the first edition was all true, and 
except the declamation all, in my opinion, useful to be 

^ Mrs. Gaskell had described Charlotte Bronte's features as 
" plain, large, and ill-set," and had written of her '* crooked mouth 
and large nose " — while acknowledging the beauty of hair and eyes. 

27 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

published. Of course I don't know how far necessity may 
make Mrs. Gaskell give them up. You know one dare not 
always say the w^orld moves. 

We who do know the w^hole story in fullest detail will 
understand that it was desirable to " mutilate " the 
book, and that, indeed, truth did in some measure 
require it. But with these letters of Mar}' Taylor's 
before us, let us not hear again that the story of 
Charlotte Bronte's life was not, in its main features, 
accurately and adequately told by her gifted biographer. 

Why then, I am naturally asked, add one further 
book to the Bronte biographical literature ? The reply 
is, I hope, suf&cient. 

Some twent}^ years ago Miss Ellen Nussey placed in 
my hands a printed volume of 400 pages, which bore 
no publisher's name, but contained upon its title-page 
the statement that it was The Story of Charlotte Bronte's 
Life, as told ihrovigh her Letters. These are the Letters — 
370 in number — w^hich Miss Nussey had lent to Mrs. 
Gaskell and to Sir Wemyss Reid. Of these letters Mrs. 
Gaskell published about 100, and Sir Wemyss Reid 
added as many more as he considered circumstances 
justified thirty-seven years back. It was explained to me 
that the volume had been privately printed under a 
misconception, and that only some dozen copies were 
extant. Miss Nussey asked me if I would write some- 
thing around what might remain of the unpublished 
letters, and if I saw my wa^^ to do anything which would 
add to the public appreciation of the friend who from 
early childhood until now has been the most absorbing 
interest of her life. A careful study of the volume 
made it perfectly clear that it still contained letters 
which might with advantage be added to the Bronte 
story. At the same time arose the possibility of a veto 
being placed upon their publication. An examination 
of Charlotte Bronte s will, which was proved at York 
by her husband in 1855, suggested an easy way out of the 
difficulty. I made up my mind to try and see Mr. 
Nicholls. I had heard of his disinclination to be in any 
way associated with the controversy which had gathered 
round Iiis wife for all these years; but I wrote to him 
nevertheless, and received a cordial invitation to visit 
him in his Irish home. 

28 



Preliminar 



y 



It was exactly forts' years to a day after Charlotte 
died — March 31st, 1895 — when I aUghted at the station 
in a quiet little town in the centre of Ireland, to receive 
the cordial handclasp of the man into whose keeping 
Charlotte Bronte had given her life. It was one of many 
\isits, and the beginning of an interesting correspondence. 
Mr. Nicholls placed ail the papers in his possession in my 
hands. The\' were more varied and more abundant 
than I could possibly have anticipated. They included 
Mss. of childhood, of which so much has been said, and 
stories of adult life, one fragment indeed being later than 
Emma which appeared in the Cornhill Magazine for April. 
1S60, with a note by Thackeray. Here were the letters 
Charlotte Bronte had \\Tritten to her brother and to her 
sisters during her second sojourn in Brussels — to " Dear 
Branwell " and ** Dear E. J.," as she calls Emily — letters 
even to handle will give a thrill to the Bronte enthusiast. 
Here also were the love-letters of Maria Branwell to her 
lover Patrick Bronte, which are referred to in Mrs. Gas- 
kell's biographv, but have never hitherto been printed. 

" The four small scraps of Emily and Anne's manu- 
script,'' writes Mr. Nicholls, " I found in the small box 
I send you ; the others I found in the bottom of a cup- 
board tied up in a newspaper, where they had lain for 
nearly thirt\' years, and where, had it not been for your 
visit, they must have remained during my lifetime, and 
most likely after\vards have been destroyed.'' 

Some slight extracts from Bronte letters in Mac- 
viillan's Magazine, signed *' E. Baumer Williams," 
brought me into communication with a gifted daughter 
of Mr, W. S. Williams. Mrs. Williams and her husband 
generously placed the whole series of these letters of 
Charlotte Bronte to their father at my disposal. It was 
of some of these letters that Mrs. Gaskell wrote in 
enthusiastic terms when she had read them, and she was 
only permitted to see a few. Then I have to thank Mr. 
Joshua Taylor, the nephew of Miss Mar\' Taylor, for 
permission to publish his aunt's letters. ^Ir. James 
Taylor, again, who wanted to. marry Charlotte Bronte, 
and who died twenty years afterwards in Bombay, left 
behind him a bundle of letters which I found in the 
possession of a relative in the north of London. I dis- 
covered through a letter addressed to Miss Nussey that 
the '' Brussels friend " referred to by Mrs. Gaskell was 
a Miss Laetitia Wheelwright, and I determined to A\Tite 

29 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

to all the Wheelwrights in the London Directory. My 
first effort succeeded, and the Miss Wheelwright kindly 
lent me all the letters that she had preserved. Of recent 
discoveries the letters from Charlotte Bronte to M. Heger 
that first appeared in The Times of July 29, 1Q13, and 
the letter to Mr. Bronte from Miss Burder that first 
appeared in The Sphere for August 23 and 30, 191 3, are of 
most importance. By an agreement with Mr. Arthur 
Bell Nicholls, the husband of Charlotte Bronte, which he 
signed at Banagher in 1895, when I purchased from him 
the Bronte letters, diaries, and books, all copyright in 
future Bronte letters and manuscripts which came to 
him as the executor of his wife were transferred to me. 



30 



CHAPTER I 

PATRICK BRONTE AND MARIA HIS WIFE 

It would seem quite clear to any careful investigator that 
the Reverend Patrick Bronte, Incumbent of Haworth, 
and the father of three famous daughters, was a much 
maligned man. We talk of the fierce light which beats 
upon a throne, but what is that compared to the fierce 
light which beats upon any man of some measure of 
individuality who is destined to Hve out his life in the 
quiet of a countr\' village — in the very centre, as it were, 
of " personal talk " and gossip not always kindly to the 
stranger within the gate? The view of Mr. Bronte, 
presented by Mrs. Gaskell in the early editions of her 
biography of Charlotte Bronte, is that of a severe, ill- 
tempered, and distinctly disagreeable character. It is 
the picture of a man who disliked the vanities of life so 
intensely, that the new shoes of his children and the silk 
dress of his wife were not spared by him in sudden gusts 
of passion. A stern old ruffian, one is inclined to con- 
sider him. His pistol-shooting rings picturesquely, 
but not agreeably, through Mrs. Gaskell's memoirs. It 
has been already explained in more than one quarter 
that this w^as not the real Patrick Bronte, and that much 
of the unfavourable gossip was due to the chatter of a 
dismissed servant, retailed to Mrs. Gaskell on one of her 
missions of inquiry- in the neighbourhood. The stories 
of the burnt shoes and the mutilated dress have been 
relegated to the realm of myth, and the pistol-shooting 
may now be acknowledged as a harmless pastime not 
more iniquitous than the golfing or angling of a latter- 
day clergyman. It is certain, were the matter of much 
interest to-day, that Mr. Bronte was fond of the use of 
firearms. A recent Incumbent of Haworth was wont 
to point out, on the old tower of Haworth Church, 
the marks of pistol bullets, which he was assured were 
made by Mr. Bronte. I have myself handled both the 
gun and the pistol — this latter a very ornamental 
weapon, by the way, manufactured at Bradford — which 
Mr. Bronte possessed during the later years of his life. 

31 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

From both he had obtained much innocent amusement; 
but his son-in-law, the late Mr. Nicholls, who cherished 
a reverent affection for old Mr. Bronte, informed me 
that the bullet marks upon Haworth Church were the 
irresponsible frolic of a rather juvenile curate — Mr. 
Smith. All this is trivial enough in any case, and one 
turns very readily to more important factors in the life 
of the father of the Brontes. Patrick Bro.nte was born 
at Emdale, County Down, in Ireland, on St. Patrick's Day, 
March 17. 1777. He was one of the ten children of Hugh 
Brunty. farmer, and his nine brothers and sisters seem all 
of them to have spent their lives in their Irish home, 
and most ol them to have married and been given in 
marriage, and to have gone to their graves in peace. 
Patrick alone had ambition, and, one must add, the 
opportune friend, without whom ambition counts for 
little in the great struggle of life. At sixteen he was a 
kind of village schoolmaster, or assistant schoolmaster, 
and at twenty-five, stirred thereto by the vicar of his 
parish, Mr. Tighe, he was on his way from Ireland to 
St. John's College, Cambridge. It was in 1802 that 
Patrick Bronte went to Cambridge, and entered his 
name in the college books. There, indeed, we find the 
name, not of Patrick Bronte, but of Patrick Branty.i and 
this brings us to an interesting point as to the origin of 
the name. In the register of his birth his name is 
entered, as are the births of his brothers and sisters, as 
"' Brunt\^ '' and ''Bruntee"; and it can scarcely be 
doubted that, as Dr. Douglas Hyde has pointed out, the 
original name was O'Prunty.- The Irish, at the begin- 
ning of the century, were well-nigh as primitive in some 
matters as were the English of a century earlier; and 
one is not surprised to sec variations in the spelling of 
the Bronte name — it being in the case of his brothers and 
sisters occasionally spelt '* Brontee." To me it is per- 

' " Patrick Branty " i? wTittcn in another liandwriting in the list 
of admissions at St. John's College, Cambridge. Dr. J. A. Erskine 
Stuiirt, who has a valuable note on the subject in an article on ** The 
Bronte Nomenclature " (Bronte Society's Publications, Ft. iii.), 
has found the name as Brunty, Bruntee, Bronty, and Branty — 
but never in Patrick Bronte's handwriting. Thor^^ i<:. however, no 
signature of ^Mr. Bronte's extant prior to 1799. 

* " 1 translated this" {i.e. an Irish romance) from a manu- 
script in mv possession made by one Patrick O'Prunty, an ancestor 
probably oi Charlotte Bronte, in 1763." — TJ:r Sforv of Early Gaelic 
Literafuyc, p. ^g. Bv Douglas Hyde, I.T,.D. 

32 



Patrick Bronte and His Wife 

fectly clear that for the change of name Lord Nelson was 
responsible, and that the dukedom of Bront6, which was 
conferred upon the great sailor in 1799, suggested the 
more ornamental surname. There were no Irish Brontes 
in existence before Nelson became Duke of Bronte; 
but all Patrick's brothers and sisters, with whom, it 
must be remembered, he was on terms of correspondence 
his whole life long, gradually, with a true Celtic sense 
of the picturesqueness of the thing, seized upon the 
more attractive surname. For this theory there is, of 
course, not one scrap of evidence; we only know that 
the register of Patrick's native parish gives us Brunty, 
and that his signature through his successive curacies is 
Bronte. 

From Cambridge, after taking orders in 1806, Mr. 
Bronte moved to a curacy at Wethersfield in Essex; 
and Mr. Augustine Birrell has told us how the good- 
looking Irish curate made successful love to a young 
parishioner — Miss Mary Burder. Mary Burder would 
have married him, it seems, but for an obdurate uncle 
and guardian. She was spirited away from the neigh- 
bourhood, and the lovers never met again. Mary 
Burder, as the wife of a Nonconformist minister, died 
in 1866, in her seventy-seventh year. Mr. Birrell under- 
stood that when Mr. Bronte lost his wife in 1821 he 
asked his old sweetheart, Mary Burder, to become the 
mother of his six children, and that she answered '' no." 
A fuller version of this story, which shows that Mary 
Burder had a grievance against her old lover, was given 
in The Sphere for August 23-30, 191 3. It would appear 
from letters then published for the first time that Mr. 
Bronte thus addressed Mrs. Burder, in 1823, when the 
following correspondence with mother and daughter 
took place. It is clear that even earlier Mr. Bronte 
had endeavoured to woo Miss Elizabeth Firth of Thorn- 
ton, considering her to be a suitable step-mother for his 
six motherless children. Miss Branwell, we may be 
sure, hated Yorkshire, and pined after her more sunny 
home in Cornwall: — 



33 B 



The Brontes and Their Circle 



TO MRS. BURDER, The Broad, Weathersfield, 

Essex 

Ha WORTH near Keighley, Yorkshire, 
April 2istj 1823. 

Dear Madam, — Fourteen years have now gone by since 
I have either seen you, or heard from you, or from any 
other of my acquaintance in that part of the country 
where I spent the first years of my Ministry. During that 
interval of time many events have taken place which once 
were little thought of, and who can tell what may occur 
during the lapse of fourteen years to come? You may 
remember to have heard me often say that I should like to 
live in Yorkshire. In consequence of this, after I left your 
neighbourhood, I spent only a year at WeUington, in the 
county of Salop, and then came into this County, where I 
have resided ever since, and where I am likely to reside as 
long as life lasts. The first situation I had in Yorkshire 
was a Curacy at Dewsbury near Leeds. From that place 
I wrote twice to my old Friend, Miss Davy, from whom I 
received no answer. In about a year and a half after I 
was promoted to the Living of Heartshead near Hudders- 
field, and still I received no answer to my letters to the 
South, from whence I concluded that all my Friends there 
were either dead or had forgotten me. Shortly after this, 
I married a very amiable and respectable Lady, who has 
been dead for nearly two years, so that I am now left a 
widower. I have at length removed to a Living in this 
place, where I have been for upwards of three years, and 
where, in all human probability, I shall continue during 
the remainder of my life. This Living is what is here 
called a Benefice, or Perpetual Curacy. It is mine for 
life, no one can take it from me. The only difference 
between it and a Vicarage is that in a Vicarage the salary 
arises from tithes, and in the Living I have it arises from 
the rent of Freehold Estates, which I like much better. 
My salary is not large, it is only about two hundred a year. 
But in addition to this two hundred a year I have a good 

34 



Patrick Bronte and His Wife 

House^ which is mine for life also^ and is rent free. No 
one has anything to do with the Church but myself, and 
I have a large congregation. Should you, or any of your 
relations, or of my old friends come down into this part at 
any time and favour me with a call, I shall be very glad 
to see them, and shall make them as comfortable as I can. 
You will much oblige me if you will write ere long, and 
let me know whatever you may think will prove interest- 
ing. I should like to know whether Miss Davy be still 
alive, how you are yourself, how all your children are, 
whether they be married or single, and whether they be 
doing well, both as it respects this life, and that which is 
to come. It is sometimes good to lay up treasure on earth, 
but it is always far better to lay up treasure in Heaven, 
where moths do not corrupt, and where thieves do not 
break through nor steal. An interest in Jesus Christ is 
the best interest we can have, both here and hereafter. 
I would be much obliged to you to tell me also who is now 
the Curate of Wethersfield. If all be well I shall prob- 
ably go up into the South this summer, and may pass 
through your neighbourhood. I long to revisit the scene 
of my first ministerial labours, and to see some of my 
old friends. 

As this letter is written entirely of my owti affairs, and 
I know not into whose hands it may fall, I have taken 
the liberty of post-paying it, which I hope will be excused. 
Into whatever hands, however, this letter may fall I shall 
be greatly obhged by an answer. Be so kind as to \vrite 
an answer as soon as you can and to direct " The Rev. 
Patrick Bronte, Haworth, near Keighley, Yorkshire." — 
I remain, Dear Madam, your sincere Friend and Humble 
Servant, P. Bronte. 

TO MISS BURDER, Finchingfield Park, 
near Braintree 

Haworth near Keighley, Yorkshire, 
July 2Sth, 1823. 

Dear Madam, — The circumstance of Mrs. Burder not 

35 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

answering my letter for so long a time gave me considerable 
uneasiness; however^ I am much obliged to her for 
answering it at last. Owing to a letter which I received 
from Miss Sarah^ and to my not receiving any answer to 
two letters which I wrote subsequently to that^ I have 
thought for years past that it was highly probable you 
were married^ or, that at all events, you wished to hear 
nothing of me, or from me, and determined that I should 
learn nothing of you. This not unfrequently gave me 
pain, but there was no remedy, and I endeavoured to 
resign to what appeared to me to be the will of God. 

I experienced a very agreeable sensation in my heart, 
at this moment, on reflecting that you are still single, and 
am so selfish as to wish you to remain so, even if you 
would never allow me to see you. You were the first 
whose hand I solicited, and no doubt I was th.t first to 
whom you promised to give that hand. 

However much you may dislike me now I am sure you 
once loved m.e with an unaffected innocent love, and I 
feel confident that after all which you have seen and 
heard, you cannot doubt respecting my love for you. It 
is now almost fifteen years since I last saw you. This 
is a long interval of time and may have effected many 
changes. It has made me look something older. But, I 
trust I have gained more than I have lost, I hope I may 
venture to say I am wiser and better. I have found this 
world to be but vanity, and I trust I may aver that my 
heart's desire is to be found in the ways of divine Wisdom, 
and in her paths which are pleasantness and peace. My 
Dear Madam, I earnestly desire to know how it is in these 
respects with you. I wish, I ardently wish, your best 
interests in both the worlds. Perhaps you have not had 
much trouble since I saw you, nor such experience as 
would unfold to your view in well-defined shapes the un- 
satisfactory nature of all earthly considerations. How- 
ever, I trust you possess in your soul a sweet peace and 
serenity arising from communion with the Holy Spirit, 
and a well-grounded hope of eternal felicity. Though I 
have had much bitter sorrow in consequence of the sick- 

36 



Patrick Bronte and His Wife 

ness and death of my dear Wife, yet I have ample cause 
to praise God for his numberless mercies. I have a small 
but s-iveet little family that often soothe my heart and 
afford me pleasure by their endearing little ways, and I 
have what I consider a competency of the good things of 
this Hfe. I am rjow settled in a part of the country /^r 
life where I have many friends, and it has pleased God in 
many respects to give me favour in the eyes of the people, 
and to prosper me in my ministerial labours. I want but 
07ie addition to my comforts^ and then I think I should 
wish for no more on this side eternity. I want to see a 
dearly Beloved Friend, kind as I once saw her^ and as 
7nuch disposed to promote my happiness. If I have ever 
given her any pain I only wish for an opportunity to make 
her ample amends, by ei^ery attention and kindness. 
Should that very dear Friend doubt respecting the 
veracitv of anv of mv statements. I would bes: leave to 
give her the most satisfactory reference. I would beg 
leave to refer her to the Rev. John Buckworth. Vicar of 
Dewsbury near Leeds, who is an excellent and respectable 
man, well kno%\Ti both as an Author and an able Minister 
of the Gospel to the religious world. 

My dear Madam, all that I have to request at present 
is that vou will be so 2:ood as to answer this letter as soon 
as convenient, and tell me candidly whether you and ]^Irs. 
Burder would have any objection to seeing me at Finch- 
insrfield Park, as an Old Friend. If vou would allow me 
to call there in a friendly manner, as soon as I could get 
a supply for my church and could leave home, I would set 
off for the South. Should you object to my stopping at 
Finching Field Park, over night, I would stop at one of the 
Inns in Braintree — as most likely my old friends in that 
town are either dead or 2:one. Should vou and Mrs. 
Burder kindly consent to see me as an old friend, it might 
be necessar\^ for me before I left home to wTite another 
letter in order that I might know when you would be at 
home. I cannot tell how you may feel on reading this, 
but I must say my ancient love is rekindled, and I have 
a longing desire to see you. Be so kind as to give my best 

37 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

respects to Mrs. Burder, to Miss Saxah^ your brothers, 
and the Little Baby, And whatever you resolve upon, 
beheve me to be yours, — Most Sincerely^ 

P. Bronte. 



TO THE REV. PATRICK BRONTE, 
Ha WORTH, near Keighley. 

FiNCHiNGFiELD Park, August Sih, 1823. 

Reverend Sir, — As you must reasonably suppose a 
letter from you presented to me on the 4th inst. naturally 
produced sensations of surprise and agitation. You have 
thought proper after a lapse of fifteen years and after 
various changes in circumstances again to address me with 
what motives I cannot well define. The subject you have 
introduced so long ago buried in silence and until now 
almost forgotten cannot I should think produce in your 
mind anything like satisfactory reflection. From a recent 
perusal of many letters of yours bearing date eighteen 
hundred and eight, nine and ten addressed to myself and 
my dear departed Aunt, many circumstances are brought 
with peculiar force afresh to my recollection. With my 
present feelings I cannot forbear in justice to myself 
making some observations which may possibly appear 
severe, of their justice I am convinced. This review Sir 
excites in my bosom increased gratitude and thankfulness 
to that wise that indulgent providence which then watched 
over me for good and withheld me from forming in very 
early life an indissoluble engagement with one whom I 
cannot think was altogether clear of duplicity. A union 
with you under then existing circumstances must have 
embittered my future days and would I have no doubt 
been productive of reflections upon me as unkind and 
distressing as events have proved they would have been 
unfounded and unjust. Happily for me I have not been 
the ascribed cause of hindering your promotion, of pre- 
venting any brilliant alliance, nor have those great and 

38 



Patrick Bronte and His Wife 

affluent friends that you used to write and speak of with- 
held their patronage on my account young, inexperienced^ 
unsuspecting, and ignorant, as I then was of what I had 
a right to look forward to. ]\Iany communications were 
received from you in humble silence which ought rather to 
have met with contempt and indignation ever considering 
the sacredness of a promise. Your confidence I have 
never betrayed strange as was the disclosure you once 
made unto me. whether those ardent professions of de- 
voted lasting attachment were sincere is now to me a 
matter of but little consequence. " What I have seen and 
heard " certainly leads me to conclude verv^ differently. 
With these my present views of past occurrences is it 
possible think you that I or my dear Parent could give 
you a cordial welcome to the Park as an old friend. 
Indeed I must give a decided negative to the desired visit. 
I know of no ties of friendship ever existing between us 
which the last eleven or twelve years have not severed or 
at least placed an insuperable bar to any revival. My 
present condition upon which you are pleased to remark 
has hitherto been the state of mv choice and to me a state 
of much happiness and comfort tho' I have not been 
exempted from some severe trials. Blessed with the 
kindest and most indulgent of friends in a beloved Parent, 
Sister, and Brother, with a handsome competency which 
affords me the capability of gratifying the best feelings of 
my heart. Teased with no domestic cares and anxieties 
and without any one to control or oppose me I have felt 
no willingness to risk in a change so many enjoyments in 
possession. Truly I may say, " My Cup overfloweth/' 
yet it is ever my desire to bear in mind that mutabihty 
is inscribed on all earthly possessions. '*' This is not my 
rest,'' and I humbly trust that I have been led to place 
all my hopes of present and future happiness upon a surer 
foundation upon that tried foundation stone which God 
has laid in Zion. Within these last twelve months I have 
suffered a severe and protracted affliction from typhus 
fever. For twenty-eight weeks I was unable to leave my 
bedroom and in that time was brought to the confines 

39 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

of an eternal world. I have indeed been brought low but 
the Lord has helped me. He has been better to me than 
my fears, has delivered my soul from death^ my eyes from 
tears, and my feet from falling, and I trust the grateful 
language of my heart is. '*' What shall I render unto the 
Lord for all his benefits? *' The life so manifestly re- 
deemed from the grave I desire to devote more unreservedly 
than I have ever yet done to his service. 

With the tear of unavailing sorrow still ready to start 
at the recollection of the loss of that beloved relative whom 
we have been call'd to mourn since you and I last saw- 
each other. I can truly sympathise with you and the poor 
little innocents in your bereavement. The Lord can 
supply all your and their need. It gives me pleasure 
always to hear the work of the Lord prospering. ]\Iay he 
enable you to be as faithful, as zealous, and as successful 
a labourer in his vineyard as was one of your predecessors 
the good old ]\Ir. Grimshaw who occupied the pulpit at 
Haworth more than half-a-century ago^ then will your 
consolations be neither few nor small. 

Cherishing no feelings of resentment or animosity _, I 
remain^ Revd. Sir. sincerely your Well Wisher, 

Mary D. Burder. 



TO MISS BURDER, Fixchingfield Park, 
near Braintree, Essex 

Haworth near Keighley, 
January \st, 1824. 

Dear Madam, — In the first place, I wish you the com- 
pliments of the season. My earnest wish and ardent 
prayer is that you may soon recover from the effects of 
your late severe illness and that every New Year's day 
may add to your blessings, as well as privileges and com- 
forts in this life, and open to your view brighter and more 
cheering prospects in reference to another world. This 
world with all its pains, pleasures, fears, and hopes will 

40 



Patrick Bronte and His Wife 

soon have an end; but an eternity of unutterable happi- 
ness or miser\^ is the grand characteristic of the next world. 
When we take this just view of the subject through the 
medium of faith all the concerns of this life are at once 
immerged and lost in the vast and sublime concerns of the 
life to come. From some expressions in your last letter 
to me I am led to suppose that you have directed your 
face heavenward, and are taking the Blessed Saviour for 
the pillar of fire and cloud to guide you on your way 
through this wilderness. Yet^ my dear Madam, I must 
candidly tell you that many things in that letter surprised 
and grieved me. I only made a civil request, which I 
think, and do verily believe^ no one in all England but 
yourself would have refused to grant me^ and not only 
did you do this but you added many keen sarcasms, which 
I think might well have been spared^ especially as you 
knew the pale countenance of death was still before my 
eyes and that I stood far more in need of consolation than 
reproach. I do solemnly assure you that no consideration 
whatsoever could have induced me to treat you in the 
same manner — no^ nor I trust_, anyone living. When I 
had the pleasure of knowing you. you seemed to me (and 
I shall still believe it) to be considerate^, kind^ and for- 
giving. But when I look at your letter and see it, in 
many parts, breathe such a spirit of disdain, hatred, and 
revenge — after the lapse of so long an interval of time — 
I appear to myself to be in an unpleasant dream: I can 
scarcely think it a reality. I confessed to you that I had 
done some things which I was sorry for, which originated 
chiefly in ver\' difficult circumstances that surrounded 
me, and which were produced chiefly by yourself. This, 
I think, might have satisfied you: at least, it might have 
disarmed you of ever\'thing like a spirit of hatred, scom^ 
and revenge. However, you may hate me now — I am 
sure you once loved me — and perhaps, as you may yet 
find, better than you will ever love another. But did I 
ever in any one instance take advantage of this or of your 
youth or inexperience? You know I did 7tot. I, in all 
things, as far as it was then in my power, behaved 

41 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

most honourably and uprightly. The letters, which were 
written in your absence and which I entreat you never 
more to read^ but to burn, were written when my mind 
was greatly distressed^ and the only object of which was 
to hasten your return. These letters, I say, greatly 
distressed me soon after, and have greatly distressed me 
many a time since. For this, and every other word and 
action towards you and yours in which I have been wrong, 
I ask your pardon. I do not remember the things you 
allude to, but as far as I can collect from your letter I 
must have said something or other highly unbecoming 
and improper. Whatever it was, as a Christian Minister 
and a gentleman, I feel myself called upon to acknowledge 
my great sorrow for it. Such an apology becomes me, 
and is I deem, required of me. And such an apology I 
now make. Your Aunt and ]\Iother were always kind to 
me, and if there were any others that wished me ill or 
spake ill of me I freely forgive them. And should it ever 
be in my power, instead of doing them harm, I would do 
them good. You wonder what my reason was for wishing 
to call on you. I will honestly tell you. I said, and re- 
solved, that if my circumstances changed for the better 
I should, if I was spared, return on a visit to your neigh- 
bourhood. They have changed for the better, and I 
wished to keep my word. You also distinctly promised 
(they were nearly the last words I heard you utter), when 
I last saw you in Wethersfield, that if I called again you 
would see me, as a friend. I, moreover, loved you, and 
notwithstanding your harsh and in some respects cruel 
treatment of me, I must confess I love you still. The 
reason of this, I suppose, is I retain in my mind the last 
impressions. I see you still as you once were — affection- 
ate, kind, and forgiving, agreeable in person, and still 
more agreeable in mind. I cannot forget our walks from 
Weathersfield to the Broad, and some of our interviews 
there. But I will say no more on this subject; it may 
be disagreeable to you, and it greatly disturbs my own 
mind. You may think and write as you please, but I 
have not the least doubt that if you had been mine you 

42 



Patrick Bronte and His Wife 

would have been happier than you now are or can be as 
one in single life. You would have had other and kindlier 
views and feelings. You would have had a second self — 
one nearer to you than Father or Mother, sisters or 
brothers ; one who would have been continually kind^ and 
whose great aim would have been to have promoted your 
happiness in both the worlds. Our rank in life would have 
been in every way genteel^ and we should together have 
had quite enough of the things of this life. We should 
have had even more than the prophet^ Agar^ prayed for 
in his most judicious prayer. Once more let me ask you 
whether Mrs. Burder and you would object to my calling 
on you at the Park some time during next spring or in 
the summer? If you cannot see me as 2^ friend ^ surely 
you can see me without feelings of revenge or hatred and 
speak to me civilly. I give you my word^ on honour, that 
I will say nothing in reference to what is past, unless it 
should be as agreeable to you as to me, and that I will 
not stop a moment longer than you wish me. Surely you 
cannot object to this. It can do no one living any harm, 
and might, I conceive, be productive of some good. 
Remember me very respectfully to Mrs. Burder and all 
her family, and believe me yours very respectfully and 
sincerely, P. Bronte. 

Mr. Bronte left Wethersfield in 1809 for a curacy at 
Dewsbury, and Dewsbury gossip also had much to say 
concerning the flirtations of its Irish curate. His next 
curacy, however, w^hich was obtained in 181 1, by a re- 
moval to Hartshead, near Huddersfield, brought flirta- 
tion for Mr. Bronte to a speedy end. In 181 2, when 
thirty-five years of age, he married Miss Maria Bran- 
well, of Penzance. Miss Branwell had only a few months 
before left her Cornish home for a visit to an uncle in 
Yorkshire. This uncle was a Mr. John Fennell, a 
clergyman of the Church of England, who had been a 
Methodist minister. To Methodism, indeed, the Cornish 
Branwells w^ould seem to have been devoted at one time 
or another, for I have seen a copy of the Imitation in- 
scribed '* M. Branwell, July 1807," with the following 
title-page: — 

43 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

AN EXTRACT OF THE CHRISTIAN'S PATTERN: 
OR, A TREATISE ON THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. 
WRITTEN IN LATIN BY THOMAS A KEMPIS. 
ABRIDGED AND PUBLISHED IN ENGLISH BY JOHN 
WESLEY, M.A., LONDON. PRINTED AT THE 
CONFERENCE OFFICE. NORTH GREEN, FINSBURY 
SQUARE. G. STORY, AGENT. SOLD BY G. WHIT- 
FIELD, CITY ROAD. 1803. PRICE BOUND IS. 

The book was evidently brought by Mrs. Bronte from 
Penzance, and given by her to her husband or left among 
her effects. The poor little woman had been in her 
grave for five or six years when it came into the hands 
of one of her daughters, as we learn from Charlotte's 
hand-writing on the fly-leaf: — 

" C. Bronte's book. This book was given to me in July 
1826. // is not certainly known who is the author, hut it 
is generally supposed that Thomas a Kempis is. I saw a 
reward of £10,000 offered in the Leeds Mercury to any one 
who could find out for a certainty who is the author.'' 

The conjunction of the names of John Wesley, Maria 
Branwell, and Charlotte Bronte surely gives this little 
volume, " price bound is.," a singular interest! 

But here I must refer to the letters which Maria 
Branwell wrote to her lover during the brief courtship. 
Mrs. Gaskell, it will be remembered, makes but one 
extract from this correspondence, which was handed to 
her by Mr. Bronte as part of the material for her memoir. 
Five years before, the little packet had been taken from 
Mr. Bronte's desk, for we find Charlotte writing to a 
friend on February i6th, 1850: — 

A few days since, a little incident happened which 
curiously touched me. Papa put into my hands a little 
packet of letters and papers, telling me that they were 
mamma's, and that I might read them. I did read them, 
in a frame of mind I cannot describe. The papers were 
yellow with time, all having been written before I was 
born. It was strange now to peruse, for the first time, 
the records of a mind whence my own sprang; and most 
strange, and at once sad and sweet, to find that mind of 
a trulv fine, pure, and elevated order. They were written 

44 



Patrick Bronte and His Wife 

to papa before they were married. There is a rectitude^ 
a refinement, a constancy, a modesty^ a sense^ a gentleness 
about them indescribable. I wish she had livedo and that 
I had known her. 

Yet another forty years or so and the little packet came 
into my possession. Handling, with a full sense of their 
sacredness, these letters, wTitten more than a hundred 
years ago by a good w^oman to her lover, one is tempted to 
hope that there is no breach of the privacy which should, 
even in our day, guide certain sides of life, in publishing 
the correspondence in its completeness. With the 
letters I find a Uttle ms., w'hich is also of pathetic interest. 
It is entitled " The Advantages of Poverty in Religious 
Concerns," and it is endorsed in the handwriting of 
Mr. Bronte, wTritten, doubtless, many years afterwards: — 

'* The above was written by my dear wife, and is for 
insertion in one of the periodical puhlications. Keep it 
as a memorial of her.'' 

There is no reason to suppose that the ms. was ever 
pubhshed ; there is no reason why any editor should have 
wished to publish it. It abounds in the obvious. At the 
same time, one notes that from both father and mother 
alike Charlotte Bronte and her sisters inherited some 
measure of the literary faculty. It is nothing to say 
that not one line of the father's or mother's would have 
been preser\'ed had it not been for their gifted children. 
It is sufficient that the zest for wTriting was there, and 
that the intense passion for handling a pen, w^hich seems 
to have been singularly strong in Charlotte Bronte, must 
have come to a great extent from a similar passion ahke 
in father and mother. Mr. Bronte, indeed, may be 
counted a prolific author. He published, in aU, four 
books, three pamphlets, and two sermons. Of his 
books, two were in verse and two in prose. Cottage 
Poems was published in 1811; The Rural Minstrel in 
181 3 ; The Cottage in the Wood in 181 5 ; and The 
Maid of Ki Harney in 18 18. After his wife's death he 
published no more books. Reading over these old- 
fashioned volumes now, one admits that they possess 
but little distinction. It has been pointed out, indeed, 
that one of the strongest lines .n Jane Eyre — ''To 
the finest fibre of my nature, sir," — is culled from 

45 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Mr. Bronte's verse. It is the one line of his that will live 
Like his daughter Charlotte, Mr. Bronte is more interest- 
ing in his prose than in his poetr\\ The Cottage in the 
Wood ; or, the Art oj Becoming Rich and Happy, is a kind 
of religious novel — a spiritual Pamela, in which the 
reprobate pursuer of an innocent girl ultimately becomes 
converted and marries her. The Maid of Ki Harney ; or, 
Albion and Flora is more interesting. tJnder the guise 
of a story it has something to say on many questions of 
importance. We know now why Charlotte never learnt 
to dance until she went to Brussels, and why children's 
games were unknowm to her, for here are many mild 
diatribes against dancing and card-playing.' The 
British Constitution and the British and Foreign Bible 
Society receive a considerable amount of criticism. But 
in spite of this didactic weakness there are one or two 
pieces of really picturesque writing, notably a descrip- 
tion of an Irish wake, and a forcible account of the 
defence of a house against some Whiteboys. It is true 
enough that the books are merely of interest to collectors 
and that they live only by virtue of Patrick Bronte's 
remarkable children. But many a prolific writer of the 
day passes muster as a genius among his contemporaries 
upon as small a talent ; and Mr. Bronte does not seem to 
have given himself any airs as an author. Thirt^^ years 
were to elapse before there were to be any more books 
from this family of writers; but Jafie Eyre owes some- 
thing, we may be sure, to The Maid of Killarney. 

Mr. Bronte, as I have said, married Maria Branwell in 
1 812. She was in her thirtieth year, and was one of 
seven children — one son and six daughters — the father 
of whom, Mr. Thomas Branwell. had died in 1808. 
By a curious coincidence, a sister, Charlotte, was 
married in Penzance on the same day — the 29th of 
December 181 2. Before me are a bundle of samplers, 
worked by four of these Branwell sisters. Maria 
Branwell "ended her sampler" April the 15th, 1791, 
and it is inscribed with the text. Flee from sin as from a 
serpent, for if thou contest too near to it, it will bite thee. 
The teeth thereof are as the teeth of a lion to slay the souls 
of men. Another sampler is by Elizabeth Branwell; 
another by Margaret, and another by Anne. These, 
some miniatures, and the book and papers to which I 
have referred, are all that remain to us as a memento 
of Mrs. Bronte, apart from the children that she bore 

46 



Patrick Bronte and His Wife 

to her husband. The miniatures are of ^Ir. and Mrs. 
Thomas Branwell — Charlotte Bronte's maternal grand- 
father and grandmother — and of Mrs. Bronte and her 
sister Elizabeth Branwell as children. 

To return, however, to our bundle of love-letters. 
Here are one or t^vo extracts, hitherto unpublished: — 

Wood House Grove^ August 26th, 1812. 

You need not fear that you have been mistaken in my 
character. If I know anything of myself^, I am incapable 
of making an ungenerous return to the smallest degree of 
kindness, much less to you whose attentions and conduct 
have been so particularly obliging. I will frankly confess 
that your behaviour and what I have seen and heard of 
your character has excited my warmest esteem and regard, 
and be assured you shall never have cause to repent of any 
confidence you may think proper to place in me, and that 
it will always be my endeavour to deserve the good 
opinion which you have formed, although human weak- 
ness may in some instances cause me to fall short. In 
giving you these assurances I do not depend upon my own 
strength, but I look to Him who has been my unerring 
guide through life, and in whose continued protection and 
assistance I confidently trust. 

Wood House Grove, September ^th, 1812. 

Have you not been too hasty in informing your friends 
of a certain event? Why did you not leave them to guess 
a little longer.^ I shrink from the idea of its being known 
to every^ body. I do, indeed, sometimes think of you, but 
I will not say how often, lest I raise your vanity; and 
we sometimes talk of you and the doctor. But I believe 
I should seldom mention your name myself were it not 
now and then introduced by my cousin. I have never 
mentioned a word of what is past to any body. Had I 
thought this necessary I should have requested you to do 
it. But I th nk there is no need, as by some means or 
other they seem to have a pretty correct notion how 
matters stand betwixt us; and as their hints, etc., meet 

47 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

with no contradiction from me^ my silence passes for 
confirmation. 

Wood House Grove^ September iSth, 1812. 

How readily do I comply with my dear Mr. B's request! 
You see^ you have only to express your wishes and as far 
as my power extends I hesitate not to fulfil them. My 
heart tells me that it will always be my pride and pleasure 
to contribute to your happiness, nor do I fear that this 
will ever be inconsistent with my duty as a Christian. 
My esteem for you and my confidence in you is so great^ 
that I firmly believe you will never exact anything from 
me which I could not conscientiously perform. I shall 
in future look to you for assistance and instruction when- 
ever I may need them, and hope you will never withhold 
from me any advice or caution you may see necessary. 

Wood House Grove^ October 2,rd, 1812. 

How could my dear friend so cruelly disappoint me.^ 
Had he known how much I had set my heart on having 
a letter this afternoon^ and how greatly I felt the dis- 
appointment when the bag arrived and I found there was 
nothing for me^ I am sure he would not have permitted 
a little matter to hinder him. But whatever was the 
reason of your not writings I cannot believe it to have 
been neglect or unkindness^ therefore I do not in the least 
blame you, I only beg that in future you will judge of my 
feelings by your own, and if possible never let me expect 
a letter without receiving one. You know in my last 
which I sent you at Bradford I said it would not be in my 
power to write the next day^ but begged I might be 
favoured with hearing from you on Saturday, and you 
will not wonder that I hoped you would have complied 
with this request. 

My cousin desires me to say that she expects a long 
poem on her birthday, when she attains the important age 
of twenty-one. Mr. Fennell joins with us in requesting 
that vou will not fail to be here on Wednesday, as it is 

48 



Patrick Bronte and His Wife 

decided that on Thursday we are to go to the Abbey if 
the weather^ etc.^ permits. 

Wood House Grove, October 21st, 1812. 

With the sincerest pleasure do I retire from company to 
converse with him whom I love beyond all others. Could 
mv beloved friend see mv heart he would then be con- 
vinced that the affection I bear him is not at all inferior 
to that which he feels for me — indeed I sometimes think 
that in truth and constancy it excels. But do not think 
from this that I entertain any suspicions of your sincerity 
— no^ I firmly believe you to be sincere and generous, and 
doubt not in the least that you feel all you express. In 
return^ I entreat that you will do me the justice to believe 
that you have not only a very large portion of my affection 
and esteem, but all that I am capable of feelings and from 
henceforth measure my feelings by your own. Unless 
my love for you were verv' great how could I so con- 
tentedly give up my home and all my friends — a home I 
loved so much that I have often thought nothing could 
bribe me to renounce it for any great length of time 
together, and friends with whom I have been so long 
accustomed to share all the vicissitudes of joy and sorrow ? 

Wood House Grove. November iSth, 1812. 

My dear saucy Pat, — Now don't you think you 
deserve this epithet far more than I do that which you 
have given me? I really know not what to make of the 
beginning of your last; the winds, waves, and rocks 
almost stunned me. I thought you were giving me the 
account of some terrible dream, or that you had had a 
presentiment of the fate of my poor box, having no idea 
that your lively imagination could make so much of the 
slight reproof conveyed in my last. What will you say 
when you get a real, downright scolding ? Since you show 
such a readiness to atone for your offences after receiving 
a mild rebuke, I am inclined to hope you will seldom 
deserve a severe one. I accept with pleasure your atone- 

49 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

ment^ and send you a free and full forgiveness. But I 
cannot allow that your affection is more deeply rooted 
than mine. 

Wood House Grove, December ^th^iSi 2. 

My dearest Friend, — So you tJwught that perhaps I 
might expect to hear from you. As the case was so doubt- 
ful, and you were in such great haste, you might as well 
have deferred vrriting a few days longer, for you seem to 
suppose it is a matter of perfect indifference to me whether 
I hear from you or not. I believe I once requested you to 
judge of my feelings by your o^^'n — am "1 ^o think that yon 
are thus indifferent ? I feel very unwilling to entertain such 
an opinion, and am grieved that you should suspect me 
of such a cold, heartless attachment. 

Mr. Bronte was at Hartshead for five years, and 
there his two eldest children. Maria and Elizabeth, 
were bom. He then moved to Thornton, near Brad- 
ford, where Charlotte was born on the 21st of April 
181 6, Bran well in 1S17, Emily in 181S, and Anne 
in 1820. In this latter year the family removed to the 
parsonage of Haworth. and in 1821 the poor mother was 
dead. A few months later Miss Elizabeth Br an well 
came from Penzance to act as a mother to her orphaned 
nephew and nieces. There is no reason to accept the 
theory that Miss Branwell was quite as formidable or 
offensive a personage as the Mrs. Read in Jane Eyre, 
That she was a somewhat rigid and not over demonstra- 
tive woman, we may take for granted. The one letter 
to her of any importance that I have seen — it is printed 
in Mrs. Gaskell's life — w^as the attempt of Charlotte to 
obtain her co-operation in the projected visit to a 
Brussels school. Miss Branwell provided the money 
readily enough it would seem, and one cannot doubt that 
in her later years she was on the best of terms with her 
nieces. There may have been too much discipline in 
childhood, but discipline which would now be considered 
too severe was common enough at the beginning of 
last century. The children, we may be sure, were left 
abundantly alone. The writing they accomplished in 
their early years would sufhciently demonstrate that. 
Miss Branwell died in 1S42; and from her vr\l\, which 

50 



Patrick Bronte and His Wife 

I give elsewhere, it will be seen that she behaved very 
justly to her three nieces. 

The reception by Mr. Bronte of his children's literary 
successes has been ver^- pleasantly recorded by Charlotte. 
He was proud of his daughters, and delighted with their 
fame. He seems to have had no small share of their 
affection. Charlotte loved and esteemed him. There 
are hundreds of her letters, in many of which are severe 
and indeed unprintable things about this or that in- 
dividual ; but of her father these letters contain not one 
single harsh word. She wTote to him regularly when 
absent. Not only did he secure the affection of his 
daughter, but the people most intimately associated 
with him next to his own children gave him a life-long 
affection and regard. Martha BrowTi, the servant who 
Hved with him until his death, always insisted that her 
old master had been grievously wTonged, and that a 
kinder, more generous, and in even,' way more worthy 
m.an had never lived. Nancy Garrs, another serv^ant, 
always spoke of Mr. Bronte as " the kindest man who 
ever drew breath,*' and as a good and affectionate father. 
Nearly sixt\- years have gone by since Charlotte Bronte 
died; and fift\- three years have flown since Mr. Nicholls 
left the deathbed of his wife's father; but to the end of 
his days he has retained the most kindly memories of one 
with whom his life was intimatelv associated for seventeen 
years, with w^hom at one crisis of his life, as we shall see, 
he had a serious difference, but whom he ever believed 
to have been an entirely honourable and upright man. 

Mrs. Gaskell visiting Haworth in November i860 did 
not, it is true, Zdsry aw^ay quite so friendly an impression. 
*' I have been to see Mr. Bronte,'' she wnites, '' and 
have spent about an hour with him. He is completely 
confined to his bed, but talks hopefully of leaving it 
again when the summer comes round. I am afraid that 
it will not be leaving it as he plans, poor old man ! He 
is touchingly softened by illness; but still talks in his 
pompous way, and mingles moral remarks and somewhat 
stale sentiments with his conversation on ordinarv' sub- 
jects." But on the whole w^e may safely assume, with 
the evidence before us. that Mr. Bronte was a thoroughly 
upright and honourable man w^ho came manfully tlirough 
a somewhat severe life battle. That is how his daughter 
thought of him, and we are content to think with her in 
this matter. 

51 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Mr. Bronte died on June 7, 1861, and his funeral in 
Haworth Church is described in the Bradford Review of 
the following week: — 

" Great numbers of people had collected in the church- 
yard, and a few minutes before noon the corpse was 
brought out through the eastern gate of the garden 
leading into the churchyard. The Rev. Dr. Burnet, 
Vicar of Bradford, read the funeral service, and led the 
way into the church, and the following clergymen were 
the bearers of the coffin: The Rev. Dr. Cartman of Skip- 
ton; Rev. Mr. Sowden of Hebden Bridge; the Incum- 
bents of Cullingworth, Oakworth, Morton, Oxenhope, 
and St. John's Ingrow. The chief mourners were the 
Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls, son-in-law of the deceased; 
Martha Brown, the housekeeper; and her sister; Mrs. 
Brown, and Mrs. Wainwright. There were several 
gentlemen followed the corpse whom we did not know. 
All the shops in Haworth were closed, and the people 
filled every pew, and the aisles in the church, and many 
shed tears during the impressive reading of the service 
for the burial of the dead, by the vicar. The body of 
Mr. Bronte was laid within the altar rails, by the side 
of his daughter Charlotte. He is the last that can be 
interred inside of Haworth Church. On the coffin was 
this inscription: ' Patrick. Bronte, died June 7th, 1861, 
aged 84 years.' " 



CHAPTER II 



CHILDHOOD 



Nearly a hundred years have passed over Thornton 
since that village had the honour of becoming the birth- 
place of Charlotte Bronte. The visitor of to-day wiW. 
find the Bell Chapel, in which Mr. Bronte officiated, a 
mere ruin ; the font in which his children were baptised 
has been transferred to the new church near by. The 
house in vv'hich Patrick Bronte resided was, when we saw 
it, a butcher's shop, and indeed little, one imagines, 
remains the same. But within the new church one may 
still overhaul the registers, and see the record of the 
baptism of the Bronte children. There, amid the names 
of the rough and rude peasantry- of the neighbourhood, 
we find the accompanying entries,^ differing from their 

^ Baptisms solemnised in the Parish of Bradford and Chapelry of 
Thornton in the County of York 



-.bo 3^ 


Child's 

Christian 

Name. 


Parents* Names 


Abode. 


Quality, 
Trade or 
Profes- 
sion. 


By wh^m the 

Ceremony was 

Performed. 


Chris- ^ Sur- 
tian. I naw^. 


1816 Charlotte 
2gth daughter 
June of 


\ 
The Rev. Bronte 
Patrick . 

and 
Maria \ 


Thornton 


Minister 

of 
Thornton 


Wm. Morgan 

Minister of 

Christ Church 

Bradford 


1817 
July 23 


Patrick 

Branwell 

son of 


Patrick \Bronte 

and ■ 
Maria \ 


Thornton 


Minister 


Jno. Fennell 

officiating 
Minister. 


181S 

20th 

August 


Emily 
Jane 

daughter 
of 


The Rev. Bronte 
Patrick A.B. 

and 
Maria \ 


Thornton 
Parson- 
age 


Minister 

of 
Thornton 


Wm. Morgan 

Minister of 

Christ Church 

Bradford. 

Wm. Morgan 
Minister of 

Christ Church 
in Bradford. 


1820 
March 

25th 


Anne 

daughter 

of 


The Rev. Bronte 
Patrick 

and \ 
Maria ; 


Minister 

of 
Haworth 





S3 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

neighbours only by the fact that Mr. Morgan or Mr. 
Fennell came to the help of their relatives and officiated 
in place of Mr. Bronte. Mr. Bronte, it will be obser\^ed. 
had already received his appointment to Haworth when 
Anne was baptised. 

There were, it is well known, two elder children, Maria 
and Elizabeth, born at Hartshead, and doomed to die 
speedily at Haworth. A vague memory of Maria lives 
in the Helen Burns of Jane Eyre, but the only tangible 
records of the pair, as far as I am able to ascertain, are 
a couple of samplers, of the kind which Mrs. Bronte and 
her sisters had worked at Penzance a generation earlier. 

Maria Bronte finished this Sampler on the i6th of May 
at the age of eight years 

one of them tells us, and the other: 

Elizabeth Bronte finished this Sampler the i-jth of JiUy 
at the age of seven years. 

Maria died at the age of eleven in May 1825, and 
Elizabeth in June of the same year, at the age of ten. 
It is, however, ^^dth their three sisters that we have most 
concern, although all the sbv children accompanied their 
parents to Haw^orth in 1820. 

Haworth, we are told, has been over-described, but 
the house in which Mr. Bronte resided, from 1820 till his 
death in 1861, has not been over-described. Many 
changes have been made since ■Mr. Bronte died, but the 
house still retains its essentially interesting features. 
In the time of the Brontes, it is true, the front outlook 
was as desolate as to-day it is attractive. Then there 
was a little piece of barren ground running down to the 
walls of the churchyard, \\-ith here and there a currant- 
bush as the sole adornment. Now we see an abundance 
of trees and a well-kept lawn. ^Nliss Ellen Nussey well 
remembered seeing Emily and Anne, on a hne summer 
afternoon, sitting on stools in this bit of garden plucking 
currants from the poor insignificant bushes. There was 
no premonition c: the time, not so far distant, when the 
rough doorway separating the churchyard from the 
garden, which was opened for their mother when they 
were little children, should be opened again time after 
time in rapid succession for their own biers to be carried 
through. This gateway is now effectively bricked up. 
In the days of the Brontes it was reserved for the 

54 



I 



Childhood 

passage of the dead — a grim arrangement, which, strange 
to say, finds no place in any one of the sisters' stories. 
We enter the house, and the door on the right leads into 
Mr. Bronte's study, always called the parlour; that on 
the left into the dining-room, where the children spent a 
great portion of their lives. From childhood to woman- 
hood, indeed, the three girls regularly breakfasted with 
their father in his study. In the dining-room — a square 
and simple room of a kind common enough in the houses 
of the poorer middle-classes — they ate their mid-day 
dinner, their tea and supper. Air. Bronte joined them 
at tea, although he always dined alone in his study. The 
children's dinner-table has been described to me by a 
visitor to the house. At one end sat Miss Branwell, at 
the other, Charlotte, with Emily and Anne on either side. 
Branwell was then absent. The living was of the 
simplest. A single joint, followed invariably by one 
kind or another of milk-pudding. Pastry was unlinown 
in the Bronte household. Milk-puddings, or food com- 
posed of milk and rice, would seem to have made the 
principal diet of Emily and Anne Bronte, and to this 
they added a breakfast of Scotch porridge, which they 
shared with their dogs. It is more interesting, perhaps, 
to think of all the daydreams in that room, of the mass 
of writing which was achieved there, of the conversations 
and speculations as to the future. Miss Nussey has 
given a pleasant picture of twilight when Charlotte and 
she walked mth arms encircling one another round and 
round the table, and Emily and Anne followed in similar 
fashion. There was no lack of cheerfulness and of hope 
at that period. Behind Mr. Bronte's studio was the 
kitchen; and there we may easily picture the Bronte 
children telling stories to Tabby or Martha, or to what- 
ever servant reigned at the time, and learning, as all of 
them did, to become thoroughly domesticated — Emily 
most of all. Behind the dining-room was a peat-room, 
which, when Charlotte was married in 1854, was cleared 
out and converted into a little study for Mr. NichoUs. 
The staircase with its solid banister remains as it did 
half a century ago; and at its foot one is still shown 
the corner which tradition assigns as the scene of Emily's 
conflict with her dog Keeper. On the right, at the back, 
as you mount the staircase, was a small room allotted to 
Branwell as a studio. On the other side of this staircase, 
also at the back, was the servants' room. In the front 

55 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

of the house, immediately over the dining-room, was 
Miss Branweirs room, afterwards the spare bedroom 
until Charlotte Bronte married. In that room she died. 
On the left, over Mr. Bronte's study, was Mr. Bronte's 
bedroom. It was the room which, for many years, he 
shared with Bran well, and it was in that room that Bran- 
well and his father died at an interval of nearly thirteen 
years. On the staircase, half-way up, was a grand- 
father's clock, which Mr. Bronte used to wind up every 
night on his way to bed. He alw.,:ys went to bed at nine 
o'clock, and Miss Nussey well remembers his stentorian 
tones as he called out as he left his study and passed the 
dining-room door — " Don't be up late, children " — 
which they usually were. Between these two front 
rooms upstairs, and immediately over the passage, with 
a door facing the staircase, was a box -room; but this 
was the children's nurser^^ where for many years the 
children slept, where the bulk of their little books were 
compiled, and where, it is more than probable, The 
Professor and part of Jane Eyre were composed. 

Of the work of the Bronte children in these early years, 
a great deal might be written. Mrs. Gaskell gives a list 
of some eighteen booklets, but at least eighteen more 
from the pen of Charlotte are in existence. Branwell 
was equally prolific ; and of him, also, there remains an 
immense mass of childish effort. That Emily and Anne 
were industrious in a like measure there is abundant 
reason to believe; but scarcely one of their juvenile 
efforts remains to us, nor even the unpublished frag- 
ments of later years, to which reference will be made a 
little later. Whether Emily and Anne on the eve of 
their death deliberately destroyed all their treasures, or 
whether they were destroyed by Charlotte in the days 
of her mourning, will never be known. Meanwhile one 
turns with interest to the efforts of Charlotte and 
Branwell. Charlotte's little stories commence in her 
thirteenth year, and go on until she is twenty-three. 
From thirteen to eighteen she would seem to have had 
one absorbing hero. It was the Duke of Wellington ; 
and her hero-worship extended to the children of the 
Duke, who, indeed, would seem even more than their 
father to have absorbed her childish affections. Whether 
the stories are fairy tales or dramas of modern life, they 
all alike introduce the Marquis of Douro, who afterwards 
became the second Duke of Wellington, and Lord Charles 

56 



Childhood 



Wellesley, whose son became the third Duke of Welling- 
ton The length of some of these fragments is indeed 
incredible. They fill but a few sheets of notepaper in 
that tiny hand\vriting ; but when copied by zealous 
admirers', it is seen that more than one of them is twent\' 
thousand words in length. 

The Foundling, by Captain Tree, written in 1S33, is a 
stor\' of thirt\'-five thousand words, though the manu- 
script has only eighteen pages. The Green Dzi'arf, written 
in the same year, is even longer, and indeed after her 
return from Roe Head in 1833, Charlotte must have 
devoted herself to continuous ^^Titing. The Adventures 
of Ernest Alembert is a booklet of this date, and Arthu- 
riayia, or Odds and Ends : being a MisceUaneoiis Collec- 
tion of Pieces in Prose and Verse, by Lord Charles 
Wellesley, is yet another. 

The son of the Iron Duke is made to talk, in these 
little books, in a way which would have gladdened the 
heart of a modern interviewer: 

*' Lord Charles," said Mr. Rundle to me one afternoon 
lately, " I have an engagement to drink tea \vith an old 
college chum this evening, so I shall give you sixty lines 
of the JEneid to get ready during my absence. If it is 
not ready by the time I come back you know the conse- 
quences." *' Ver\' well, Sir," said I, bringing out the 
books with a prodigious bustle, and making a show as 
if I intended to learn a whole book instead of sixt}^ lines 
of the JEneid. This appearance of industry-, however, 
lasted no longer than until the old gentleman's back was 
turned. No sooner had he fairly quitted the room than 
I flung aside the must\' tomes, took my cap, and speeding 
through chamber, hall, and galler\^. v\-as soon outside 
the gates of Waterloo Palace." 



fc' 



The Secret, another stor\', of which Mrs. Gaskell gave a 
facsimile of the first page, was also written in 1833, and 
indeed in this, her seventeenth year, Charlotte Bronte 
must have wTitten as much as in any year of her life. 
When at Roe Head, i S3 2-3, she would seem to have 
worked at her studies, and particularly her drawing; 
but in the inter\-al betAveen Cowan Bridge and Roe 
Head she wTote a great deal. The earliest manuscripts 
in my possession bear date 1829 — that is to say, in 
Charlotte's thirteenth year. They are her Tales of the 
Islanders, which extend to four little volumes in brown 

57 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

paper covers neatly inscribed " First Volume." " Second 
Volume/' and so on. The Duke is of absorbing im- 
portance in these ** Tales." " One evening the Duke of 
Wellington was wTiting in his room in Downing Street. 
He was reposing at his ease in a simple easy chair, 
smoking a homely tobacco-pipe, for he disdained all the 
modern frippery of cigars ..." and so on in an 
abundance of childish imaginings. The Search after 
Happiness and Characters of Great Men of the Present 
Time were also written in 1829. 

Six numbers of The Young Men's Magazine were 
written in this year; a very juvenile poem, The Evening 
Walk, by the Marquis of Douro, in 1830 ; and another, of 
greater literary value, The Violet, in the same year. In 
183 1 we have an unfinished poem, The Trumpet Hath 
Sounded; and in 1832 a very long poem called The 
Bridal. Some of them, as for example a poem called 
Richard Cceur de Lion and Blondel, are written in penny 
and twopenny notebooks of the kind used by laundresses. 
Occasionally her father has purchased a sixpenny book 
and has written within the cover — 

A II that is written in this hook must he in a good, plain , 
and legihle hand. — P. B. 

While upon this topic, I may as well carry the record 
up to the date of publication of Currer Bell's poems. 
A Leaf from an Unopened Volume was written in 1834, 
as were also The Death of Darius, and Corner Dishes. 
Saul : a Poem, was written in 1835, and a number of 
other still unpublished verses. There is a story called 
Lord Douro, bearing date 1837, and a manuscript book 
of verses of 1838, but that pretty well exhausts the 
manuscripts before me previous to the days of serious 
literary activity. During the years as private governess 
(183Q-1841) and the Brussels experiences (1842- 1844), 
Charlotte would seem to have put all literary effort on 
one side.^ 

There is only one letter of Charlotte Bronte's child- 
hood. It is indorsed by Mr. Bronte on the cover Char- 
lotte's First Letter, possibly for the guidance of Mrs. 
Gaskell, who may perhaps have thought it of insufficient 
importance. That can scarcely be the opinion of any 

^ I propose in the year of Charlotte Bronte's centenary — 19 16 — 
to publish a volume of her Jtwenilia. 

58 



Childhood 

one to-day. Chaxlotte, aged thirteen, is stajring with 
the Fennells, her mother's friends of those early love- 
letters. 

TO THE REV. P. BRONTE 

Parsonage House^ Crosstone^ 
September 2yd, 1829. 

My dear Papa, — At Aunt's request I write these lines 
to inform you that '' if all be well " we shall be at home on 
Friday by dinner-time, v/hen we hope to find you in good 
health. On account of the bad weather we have not been 
out much, but notwithstanding we have spent our time 
very pleasantly, between reading, working, and learning 
our lessons, which Uncle Fennell has been so kind as to 
teach us every day. Branwell has taken two sketches 
from nature, and Emily, Anne, and myself have likewise 
each of us drawn a piece from some views of the lakes 
which Mr. Fennell brought with him from Westmoreland. 
The whole of these he intends keeping. Mr. Fennell is 
sorry he cannot accompany us to Haworth on Friday, for 
want of room, but hopes to have the pleasure of seeing 
you soon. All unite in sending their kind love with your 
affectionate daughter, Charlotte Bronte. 



59 



CHAPTER III 

SCHOOL AND GOVERNESS LIFE 

In seeking for fresh light upon the development of 
Charlotte Bronte, it is not necessary to discuss further 
her childhood's years at Cowan Bridge. She left the 
school at nine years of age, and what memories of it were 
carried into womanhood were, wdth more or less of pic- 
turesque colouring, embodied in Jane Eyre. From 1825 
to 1 83 1 Charlotte was at home wdth her sisters, reading 
and writing as we have seen, but learning nothing very 
systematically. In 1831-32 she was a boarder at Miss 
Wooler's school at Roe Head, some twenty miles from 
Haworth. Miss Wooler lived to a green old age, dying 
in the year 1885. She would seem to have been very 
proud of her famous pupil, and could not have been 
blind to her capacity in the earlier years. Charlotte 
was with her as governess at Roe Head, and later at 
Dewsbury Moor. It is quite clear that ^liss Bronte 
was head of the school in all intellectual pursuits, and 
she made two firm friends — Ellen Nussey and Mary 
Taylor. A very fair measure of French and some skill 
in drawing appear to have been the most striking accom- 
hshments which Charlotte carried back from Roe Head 
to Haworth. There are some twenty drawings of about 
this date, and a translation into English verse of the 
first book of Voltaire's Henriade. With Ellen Nussey 
commenced a friendship which terminated only with 
the pencilled notes written from Charlotte Bronte's 
deathbed. The first suggestion of a regular corres- 
pondence is contained in the following letter. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ July 21st, 1832. 

My dearest Ellen. — Your kind and interesting letter 
gave me the sincerest pleasure. I have been expecting 
to hear from you almost every day since my arrival at 
home, and I at length began to despair of receiving the 

60 



School and Governess Life 

wished-for letter. You ask me to give you a description 
of the manner in which I have passed every day since I left 
school. This is soon done^ as an account of one day is an 
account of all. In the mornings, from nine o'clock to 
half-past twelve, I instruct my sisters and draw^ then we 
walk till dinner; after dinner I sew till tea-time^ and after 
tea I either read, wTite, do a little fancy-work, or draw, 
as I please. Thus in one delightful, though somewhat 
monotonous course, my life is passed. I have only been 
out to tea twice since I came home. We are expecting 
company this afternoon, and on Tuesday next we shall 
have all the female teachers of the Sunday school to tea. 
I do hope, my dearest Ellen, that you will return to school 
again for your o\\ti sake, though for mine I would rather 
that you would remain at home, as we shall then have 
more frequent opportunities of correspondence with each 
other. Should your friends decide against your returning 
to school, I know you have too much good-sense and 
right feeling not to strive earnestly for your own improve- 
ment. Your natural abihties are excellent, and under the 
direction of a judicious and able friend (and I know you 
have many such), you might acquire a decided taste for 
elegant literature, and even poetry, which, indeed, is 
included under that general term. I was very much dis- 
appointed by your not sending the hair; you may be sure, 
my dearest Ellen, that I would not gxudge double postage 
to obtain i , but I must offer the same excuse for not send- 
ing you any. My aunt and sisters desire their love to you. 
Remember me kindly to your mother and sisters, and 
accept all the fondest expressions of genuine attachment, 
from your real friend Charlotte Bronte. 

P.S. — ^Remember the mutual promise we made of a 
regular correspondence with each other. Excuse all 
faults in this \\Tetched scrawl. Give my love to the Miss 
Taylors when vou see them. Farewell, mv dear, dear, dear 
Ellen. 

Reading, writing, and as thorough a domestic training 
as the little parsonage could afford, made up the next 

6i 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

few years. Then came the determination to be a gover- 
ness — a not unnatural resohition when the size of the 
family and the modest stipend of its head are considered. 
Far more prosperous parents are content in our day that 
their daughters should earn their living in this manner. 
In 1835 Charlotte went back to Roe Head as governess, 
and she continued in that position when Miss Wooler 
removed her school to Dewsburv' Moor in 1S36. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Dewsbury Moor, August 2^h, 1837. 

My dear Ellen, — I have determined to ^vrite lest you 
should begin to think I have forgotten you, and in revenge 
resolve to forget me. As you will perceive by the date of 
this letter, I am again engaged in the old business — teach, 
teach, teach. Miss and Mrs. Wooler are coming here next 
Christmas. Miss Wooler will then relinquish the school in 
favour of her sister Eliza, but I am happy to say worthy 
Miss Wooler will continue to reside in the house. I should 
be sorry indeed to part with her. When will you come 
home ? Make haste, you have been at Bath long enough 
for all purposes. By this time you have acquired polish 
enough, I am sure. If the varnish is laid on much thicker, 
I am afraid the good wood underneath will be quite con- 
cealed, and your old Yorkshire friends won't stand that. 
Come, come, I am getting really tired of your absence. 
Saturday after Saturday comes round, and I can have no 
hope of hearing your knock at the door and then being 
told that "Miss E. N. is come." Oh dear! in this 
monotonous life of mine that was a pleasant event. I 
wish it would recur again, but it will take two or three 
interviews before the stiffness, the estrangement of this 
long separation will quite wear away. I have nothing 
at all to tell you now but that Mary Taylor is better, and 
that she and Martha are gone to take a tour in Wales. 
Patty came on her pony about a fortnight since to inform 
me that this important event was in contemplation. She 
actuallv began to fret about your long absence, and to 

62 



School and Governess Life 

express the most eager wishes for your return. My own 
dear Ellen, good-bye. If we are all spared I hope soon 
to see you again. God bless you. C. Bronte. 

Things were not always going on quite so smoothly, 
as the following letter indicates. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Hav\ ORTH^ January ^tk^ 1838. 

Your letter^ EUen^ was a welcome surprise, though it 
contained something lil<:e a reprimand. I had not, how- 
ever, forgotten our agreement. You were right in your 
conjectures respecting the cause of my sudden departure. 
Anne continued wTetchedly ill, neither the pain nor the 
difficulty of breathing left her, and how could I feel other- 
wise than very miserable. I looked on her case in a 
different light to what I could wish or expect any un- 
interested person to view it in. Miss Wooler thought me 
a fool, and by way of proving her opmion treated me with 
marked coldness. We came to a little eclaircissement one 
evening. I told her one or two rather plain truths, which 
set her a-crying; and the next day, unknowTi to me, she 
wrote papa, telling him that I had reproached her bitterly, 
taken her severely to task, etc. Papa sent for us the day 
after he had receiv^ed her letter. Meantime I had formed 
a firm resolution to quit Miss Wooler and her concerns for 
ever; but just before I went away, she took me to her 
room, and giving way to her feelings, which in general she 
restrains far too rigidly, gave me to understand that in 
spite of her cold, repulsive manners, she had a considerable 
regard for me, and would be very sorry to part with me. 
If any body likes me, I cannot help liking them; and 
remembering that she had in general been very kind to 
me, I gave in and said I would come back if she wished me. 
So we are settled again for the present, but I am not 
satisfied. I should have respected her far more if she had 
turned me out of doors, instead of crying for two days and 
two nights together. I was in a regular passion; my 
" warm temper " quite s^ot the better of me, of which I 

63 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

don't boast, for it was a weakness ; nor am I ashamed of 
it, for I had reason to be angry. 

Anne is now much better, though she still requires a 
great deal of care. However, I am relieved from my worst 
fears respecting her. I approve highly of the plan you 
mention, except as it regards committing a verse of the 
Psalms to memory. I do not see the direct advantage 
to be derived from that. We have entered on a new year. 
Will it be stained as darkly as the last with all our sins, 
follies, secret vanities, and uncontrolled passions and 
propensities? I trust not: but I feel in nothing better, 
neither hum.bler nor purer. It will want three weeks next 
Monday to the termination of the holidays. Come to see 
me, my dear Ellen, as soon as you can; however bitterly 
I sometimes feel towards other people, the recollection 
of your mild, steady friendship consoles and softens me. 
I am glad you are not such a passionate fool as myself. 
Give my best love to your mother and sisters. Excuse 
the most hideous scrawl that ever was penned, and — 
Believe me always tenderly yours, C. Broxte. 

Dewsburv ^loor, however, did not agree with Char- 
lotte. That was probably the core of the matter. She 
returned to Haworth, but only to look around for another 
*' situation." This time she accepted the position of 
private governess in the family of a Mr. Sidgwick, at 
Stonegrappe, in the same county. Her letters from 
his house require no comment. A sentence from the 
first was quoted by Mrs. Gaskell. 



TO MISS EMILY J- BROXTE 

Stonegappe, June 8th, 1839. 

Dearest Lavixia, — I am most exceedingly obliged to 
you for the trouble you have taken in seeking up my things 
and sending them all right. The box and its contents 
were most acceptable. I only wish I had asked you to 
send me some letter-paper. This is my last sheet but two. 
When you can send the other articles of raiment now 
manufacturing, I shall be right down glad of them. 

64 



School and Governess Life 

I have striven hard to be pleased with my new situation. 
The countr}'. the house, and the grounds are^ as I have said, 
divine. But, alack-a-day ! there is such a thing as seeing 
all beautiful around you — pleasant woods^ winding white 
paths, green la^Tis, and blue sunshiny sky — and not having 
a free moment or a free thought left to enjoy them in. 
The children are constantly with me, and more riotous, 
perv'erse, unmanageable cubs never grew. As for cor- 
recting them, I soon quickly found that was entirely out 
of the question: they are to do as they like. A complaint 
to Mrs. Sidgwick brings only black looks upon oneself, and 
unjust, partial excuses to screen the children. I have 
tried that plan once. It succeeded so notably that I shall 
try it no more. I said in my last letter that Mrs. SidgT\ack 
did not know me. I now begin to find that she does not 
intend to know me, that she cares nothing in the world 
about me except to contrive how the greatest possible 
quantity of labour may be squeezed out of me, and to that 
end she overwhelms me with oceans of needlework, yards 
of cambric to hem, muslin night-caps to make, and, above 
all things, dolls to dress. I do not think she likes me at all, 
because I can't help being shy in such an entirely novel 
scene, surrounded as I have hitherto been by strange 
and constantly changing faces. I see now more clearly 
than I have ev^er done before that a private governess 
has no existence, is not considered as a h\'in2: and rational 
being except as connected with the wearisome duties she 
has to fulfil. \Miile she is teaching the children, working 
for them, amusing them, it is all right. If she steals a 
moment for herself she is a nuisance. Nevertheless, Mrs. 
Sidgwick is universally considered an amiable woman. 
Her manners are fussily affable. She talks a great deal, 
but as it seems to me not much to the purpose. Perhaps 
I may like her better after a while. At present I have no 
call to her. Mr. Sidgwick is in my opinion a hundred 
times better — less profession, less bustling condescension, 
but a far kinder heart. It is very seldom that he speaks 
to me, but when he does I always feel happier and more 
settled for some minute after. He never asks me to ^ipe 

65 c 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

the children's smutty noses or tie their shoes or fetch their 
pinafores or set them a chair. One of the pleasantest 
afternoons I have spent here — indeed, the only one at all 
pleasant — was when Mr. Sidgwick walked out with his 
children, and I had orders to follow a little behind. As he 
strolled on through his fields with his magnificent New- 
foundland dog at his side, he looked very like what a frank, 
wealthy, Conservative gentleman ought to be. He spoke 
freely and unaffectedly to the people he met, and though 
he indulged his children and allowed them to tease himself 
far too much, he would not suffer them grossly to insult 
others. 

I am getting quite to have a regard for the Carter family. 
At home I should not care for them, but here they are 
friends. Mr. Carter was at Mirfield yesterday and saw 
Anne. He says she was looking uncommonly well. Poor 
girl, she must indeed wish to be at home. As to Mrs. 
Collins' report that Mrs. Sidgwick intended to keep me 
permanently, I do not think that such was ever her design. 
Moreover, I would not stay without some alterations. 
For instance, this burden of sewing would have to be 
removed. It is too bad for anything. I never in my whole 
life had my time so fully taken up. Next week we are 
going to Swarcliffe, Mr. Greenwood's place near Harrogate, 
to stay three weeks or a month. After that time I hope 
Miss Hoby will return. Don't show this letter to papa or 
aunt, only to Branwell. They will think I am never 
satisfied wherever I am. I complain to you because it is 
a relief, and really I have had some unexpected mortifica- 
tions to put up with. However, things may mend, but 
Mrs. Sidgwick expects me to do things that I cannot do — 
to love her children and be entirely devoted to them. I 
am really very well. I am so sleepy that I can write no 
more. I must leave off. Love to all. — Good-bye. 

Direct your next dispatch — J. Greenwood, Esq., 
Swarcliffe, near Harrogate. C. Bronte. 



66 



School and Governess Life 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

SWARCLIFFE, Jufie l^tk, 1839. 

My dearest Ellen^ — I am writing a letter to you with 
pencil because I cannot just now procure ink without going 
into the drawing-room^ where I do not wish to go. I only 
received your letter yesterday, for we are not now residing 
at Stonegappe but at Swarcliffe. a summer residence of Mr. 
Greenwood's^ Mrs. Sidg wick's father: it is near Harrogate 
and Ripon. I should have written to you long since^, and 
told you every detail of the utterly new scene into which 
I have lately been cast^ had I not been daily expecting a 
letter from yourself, and wondering and lamenting that 
you did not write^ for you will remember it was your turn, 
i must not bother you too much with my sorrows . of which^ 
I fear^ you have heard an exaggerated account. If you 
were near me^ perhaps I might be tempted to tell you all^ 
to grow egotistical, and pour out the long history of a 
private governess's trials and crosses in her first situation. 
As it is^ I will only ask you to imagine the miseries of a 
reserved \\Tetch like me thro^Ti at once into the midst of 
a large family, proud as peacocks and wealthy as Jews^ 
at a time when they were particularly gay^ when the house 
was filled with company — all strangers: people whose 
faces I had never seen before. In this state I had a charge 
given of a set of horrid children^ whom I was expected 
constantly to amuse, as weU as instruct. I soon found 
that the constant demand on my stock of animal spirits 
reduced them to the lowest state of exhaustion; at times 
I felt — and^ I suppose seemed — depressed. To my 
astonishment^ I was taken to task on the subject by Mrs. 
Sidgwick^ with a sternness of manner and a harshness of 
language scarcely credible. Like a fool; I cried most 
bitterly. I could not help it; my spirits quite failed me at 
first. I thought I had done my best, strained every nerve 
to please her; and to be treated in that way^ merely 
because I was shy and sometimes melancholy^ was too bad. 
At first I was for giving all up and going home. But after 

67 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

a little reflection^ I determined to summon what energy 
I had^ and to weather the storm. I said to myself, '' I 
had never yet quitted a place without gaining a friend; 
adversity is a good school; the poor are born to labour^ 
and the dependent to endure." I resolved to be patient, 
to command my feelings, and to take what came; the 
ordeal, I reflected, would not last many weeks, and I 
trusted it would do me good. I recollected the fable of 
the willow and the oak; I bent quietly, and now I trust 
the storm is blowing over. Mrs. Sidgwick is generally 
considered an agreeable woman ; so she is, I doubt not, in 
general society. Her health is sound, her animal spirits 
good, consequently she is cheerful in company. But oh! 
does this compensate for the absence of every fine feeling, 
of every gentle and delicate sentiment? She behaves 
somewhat more civilly to me now than she did at first, 
and the children are a little more manageable; but she 
does not know my character, and she does not wish to 
know it. I have never had five minutes conversation with 
her since I came, except when she was scolding me. I 
have no wish to be pitied, except by yourself. If I were 
talking to you I could tell you much more. Good-bye^ 
dear, dear Ellen. Write to me again very soon, and tell 
me how you are. C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, July 26thj 1839. 

Dear Ellen, — I left Stonegappe a week since. I never 
was so glad to get out of a house in my life; but I'll trouble 
you with no complaints at present. Write to me directly; 
explain your plans more fully. Say when you go, and I 
shall be able in my answer to say decidedly whether I can 
accompany you or not. I must, I will, I'm set upon it — 
I'll be obstinate and bear down all opposition. — Good-bye, 
yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

That experience with the Sidgwicks rankled for many a 
day, and we find Charlotte Bronte referring to it in her 

68 



School and Governess Life 

letters from Brussels. At the same time it is not neces- 
sary to assume any very serious inhumanity on the part 
of the Sidgwicks or their successors the Whites, to whom 
Charlotte was indebted for her second term as private 
governess. Hers was hardly a temperament adapted 
for that docile part, and one thinks of the author of 
Villette, and the possessor of one of the most vigorous 
prose styles in our language, condemned to a perpetual 
manufacture of night-caps, with something like a 
shudder. And at the same time it may be urged that 
Charlotte Bronte did not suffer in vain, and that through 
her the calling of a nursery governess may have received 
some added measure of dignity and consideration on the 
part of sister- women. A month or two later we find 
Charlotte dealing with the subject in a letter to Ellen 
Nussey. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ January 2/\th, 1840, 

My dear Ellen, — ^You could never live in an unruly, 
violent family of modern children, such for instance as 
those at Blake Hall. Anne is not to return. Mrs. Ingham 
is a placid, mild woman ; but as for the children, it was one 
struggle of life-wearing exertion to keep them in anything 
like decent order. I am miserable when I allow myself 
to dwell on the necessity of spending my life as a governess. 
The chief requisite for that station seems to me to be the 
power of taking things easily as they come, and of making 
oneself comfortable and at home wherever we may chance 
to be — qualities in which all our family are singularly 
deficient. I know I cannot live with a person like Mrs. 
Sidgwick, but I hope all women are not like her, and my 
motto is '' try again." Mary Taylor, I am sorry to hear, 
is ill — have you seen her or heard anything of her lately? 
Sickness seems very general, and death too, at least in 
this neighbourhood. — Ever yours, C. B. 

She ** tried again '' but with just as little success. In 
March 1841 she entered the family of a Mr. White of 
Upperwood House, Rawdon. 

69 



The Brontes and Their Circle 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Upperwood House, April ist, 1841. 

My dear Nell, — It is twelve o'clock at night, but I 

must just write to you a word before I go to bed. If you 

think I am going to refuse your invitation, or if you sent 

it me with that idea, you're mistaken. As soon as I read 

your shabby little note, I gathered up my spirits directly, 

walked on the impulse of the moment into Mrs. White's 

presence, popped the question, and for two minutes 

received no answer. Will she refuse me when I work so 

hard for her? thought I. " Ye-e-es " was said in a 

reluctant, cold tone. " Thank you, m'am," said I, with 

extreme cordiality, and was marching from the room 

when she recalled me with: '^ You'd better go on Saturday 

afternoon then, when the children have holiday, and if 

you return in time for them to have all their lessons on 

Monday morning, I don't see that much will be lost." 

You are sl genuine Turk, thought I, but again I assented. 

Saturday after next, then, is the day appointed — 7iot next 

Saturday J mind, I do not quite know whether the offer 

about the gig is not entirely out of your own head or if 

George has given his consent to it — whether that consent 

has not been wrung from him by the most persevering and 

irresistible teasing on the part of a certain young person 

of my acquaintance. I make no manner of doubt that 

if he does send the conveyance (as Miss Wooler used to 

denominate all wheeled vehicles) it will be to his own 

extreme detriment and inconvenience, but for once in my 

life I'll not mind this, or bother my head about it. I'll 

come — God knows with a thankful and joyful heart — 

glad of a day's reprieve from labour. If you don't send 

the gig I'll walk. Now mind, I am not coming to Brook- 

royd with the idea of dissuading Mary Taylor from going 

to New Zealand. I've said everything I mean to say on 

that subject, and she has a perfect right to decide for 

herself. I am coming to taste the pleasure of liberty, a 

bit of pleasant congenial talk, and a sight of two or three 

70 



School and Governess Life 

faces I like. God bless you. I want to see you again. 
Huzza for Saturday afternoon after next! Good-night, 
my lass. C. Bronte. 

Have you lit your pipe with Mr. Weightman's valentine? 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Upperwood House, May 4th ^ 1841. 

,71Dear Nell, — I have been a long time without writing 
to you ; but I think, knowing as you do how I am situated 
in the matter of time, you will not be angry with me. 
Your brother George will have told you that he did not go 
into the house when we arrived at Rawdon, for which 
omission of his Mrs. White was very near blowing me up. 
She went quite red in the face with vexation when she 
heard that the gentleman had just driven within the gates 
and then back again, for she is very touchy in the matter 
of opinion. Mr. White also seemed to regret the cir- 
cumstance from more hospitable and kindly motives. I 
assure you, if you were to come and see me you would have 
quite a fuss made over you. During the last three weeks 
that hideous operation called ^' a thorough clean " has 
been going on in the house. It is now nearly completed, 
for which I thank my stars, as during its progress I have 
fulfilled the twofold character of nurse and governess, 
while the nurse has been transmuted into cook and house- 
maid. That nurse, by-the-bye, is the prettiest lass you 
ever saw, and when dressed has much more the air of a 
lady than her mistress. Well can I believe that Mrs. 
White has been an exciseman's daughter, and I am con- 
vinced also that Mr. White's extraction is very low. Yet 
Mrs. White talks in an amusing strain of pomposity about 
his and her familyand connections, and affects to look down 
with wondrous hauteur on the whole race of tradesfolk, 
as she terms men of business. I was beginning to think 
Mrs. White a good sort of body in spite of all her bouncing 
and boasting, her bad grammar and worse orthography, but 
I have had experience of one little trait in her character 

71 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

which condemns her a long way with me. After treating 
a person in the most famiHar terms of equality for a long 
time, if any little thing goes wrong she does not scruple to 
give way to anger in a very coarse^ unladylike manner. I 
think passion is the true test of vulgarity or refinement. 

This place looks exquisitely beautiful just now. The 
grounds are certainly lovely, and all is as green as an 
emerald. I wish you would just come and look at it. 
Mrs. White would be as proud as Punch to show it you. 
Mr. White has been writing an urgent invitation to papa, 
entreating him to come and spend a week here. I don't 
at all wish papa to come, it would be like incurring an 
obligation. Somehow, I have managed to get a good deal 
more control over the children lately — this makes my 
life a good deal easier; also, by dint of nursing the fat 
baby, it has got to know me and be fond of me. I suspect 
myself of growing rather fond of it. Exertion of any kind 
is always beneficial. Come and see me if you can in any 
way get, I want to see you. It seems Martha Taylor is 
fairly gone. Good-bye, my lassie. — Yours insufferably, 

C. Bronte. 



TO REV. HENRY NUSSEY, Earnley Rectory 

Upperwood House, Rawdon, 
May gth, 1841. 

Dear Sir, — I am about to employ part of a Sunday 
evening in answering your last letter. You will perhaps 
think this hardly right, and yet I do not feel that I am 
doing wrong. Sunday evening is almost my only time of 
leisure. No one would blame me if I were to spend this 
spare hour in a pleasant chat with a friend — is it worse 
to spend it in a friendly letter ? 

I have just seen my little noisy charges deposited snugly 
in their cribs, and I am sitting alone in the school-room 
with the quiet of a Sunday evening pervading the grounds 
and gardens outside my window. I owe you a letter — can 
I choose a better time than the present for paying my 
debt? Now, Mr. Nussey, you need not expect any gossip 

72 



School and Governess Life 

or news, I have none to tell you — even if I had I am hot 
at present in the mood to communicate them. You will 
excuse an unconnected letter. If I had thought you 
critical or captious I would have declined the task of 
corresponding with you. When I reflect^ indeed, it seems 
strange that I should sit down to write without a feeling 
of formality and restraint to an individual with whom I 
am personally so little acquainted as I am with yourself; 
but the fact is^ I cannot be formal in a letter — if I write at 
all I must write as I think. It seems Ellen has told you 
that I am become a governess again. As you say, it is 
indeed a hard thing for flesh and blood to leave home, 
especially a good home — not a wealthy or splendid one. 
My home is humble and unattractive to strangers, but to 
me it contains what I shall find nowhere else in the world — 
the profound, the intense affection which brothers and 
sisters feel for each other when their minds are cast in the 
same mould, their ideas drawn from the same source — 
when they have clung to each other from childhood, and 
when disputes have never sprung up to divide them. 

We are all separated now, and winning our bread 
amongst strangers as we can — ^my sister Anne is near 
York, my brother in a situation near Halifax, I am here. 
Emily is the only one left at home, where her usefulness 
and wil]ingness make her indispensable. Under these 
circumstances should we repine ? I think not — our mutual 
affection ought to comfort us under all difficulties. If the 
God on whom we must all depend will but vouchsafe us 
health and the power to continue in the strict line of duty, 
so as never under any temptation to swerve from it 
an inch, we shall have ample reason to be grateful and 
contented. 

I do not pretend to say that I am always contented. A 
governess must often submit to have the heartache. My 
employers^ Mr. and Mrs. White, are kind worthy people 
in their way, but the children are indulged. I have great 
difficulties to contend with sometimes. Perseverance 
will perhaps conquer them. And it has gratified me much 
to find that the parents are well satisfied with their 

73 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

children's improvement in learning since I came. But I 
am dwelling too much upon my own concerns and feelings. 
It is true they are interesting to me, but it is wholly 
impossible they should be so to you, and, therefore, I hope 
you will skip the last page, for I repent having written it. 
A fortnight since I had a letter from Ellen urging me to 
go to Brookroyd for a single day. I felt such a longing to 
have a respite from labour, and to get once more amongst 
" old familiar faces," that I conquered diffidence and 
asked Mrs. White to let me go. She complied, and I went 
accordingly, and had a most delightful hoHday. I saw 
your mother, your sisters Mercy, Ellen, and poor Sarah, 
and your brothers Richard and George — all were well. 
Ellen talked of endeavouring to get a situation somewhere. 
I did not encourage the idea much. I advised her rather 
to go to Eamley for a while. I think she wants a change, 
and I dare say you would be glad to have her as a com- 
panion for a few months. — I remain, yours respectfully, 

C. Bronte. 

The above letter was wT*itten to Miss Nussey's brother, 
whose attachment to Charlotte Bronte has already more 
than once been mentioned in the current biographies. 
The following letter to Miss Nussey is peculiarly inter- 
esting because of the reference to Ireland. It would 
have been strange if Charlotte Bronte had returned as 
a governess to her father's native land. Speculation 
thereon is sufficiently foolish, and yet one is tempted to 
ask if Ireland might not have gained some of that local 
literary colour — one of its greatest needs — which always 
makes Scotland dear to the readers of Waverley, and 
Yorkshire classic ground to the admirers of Shirley. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Upperwood House, June loth, 1841. 

Dear Nell, — If I don't scrawl you a line of some sort I 
know you will begin to fancy that I neglect you, in spite 
of all I said last time we met. You can hardly fancy it 
possible, I dare say, that I cannot find a quarter of an 
hour to scribble a note in; but when a note is written it 

74 



School and Governess Life 

is to be carried a mile to the post^ and consumes neariy 
an hour^ which is a large portion of the day. Mr. and Mrs. 
White have been gone a week. I heard from them this 
morning; they are now at Hexham. No time is fixed for 
their return^ but I hope it will not be delayed long^ or I 
shall miss the chance of seeing Anne this vacation. She 
came home^ I understand^ last Wednesday^ and is only 
to be allowed three weeks' holidays^ because the family 
she is with are going to Scarborough. I should like to see 
her to judge for myself of the state of her health. I cannot 
trust any other person's report, no one seems minute 
enough in their obser^^ations. I should also very much 
have liked you to see her. 

I have got on very well with the servants and children so 
far, yet it is drearv^, sohtars^ work. You can tell as well as 
me the lonely feeling of being without a companion. I 
offered the Irish concern to Mary^ Taylor, but she is so 
circumstanced that she cannot accept it. Her brothers 
have a feeling of pride that revolts at the thought of their 
sister " going out.'' I hardly knew that it was such a 
degradation till lately. 

Your visit did me much good. I wish Mar}^ Taylor 
would come, and yet I hardly know how to find time to 
be with her. — Good-bye. God bless you. 

C. Bronte. 

I am very well, and I continue to get to bed before 
twelve o'clock p.m. I don't tell people that I am dis- 
satisfied with my situation. I can drive on; there is no 
use in complaining. I have lost my chance of going to 
Ireland. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, July ist, 1841. 

Dear Nell, — I was not at home when I got your letter, 
but I am at home now, and it feels like paradise. I came 
last night. When I asked for a vacation, Mrs. White 
oSered me a week or ten days, but I demanded three 

75 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

weeks, and stood to my tackle with a tenacity worthy 
of yourself, lassie. I gained the point, but I don't like 
such victories. I have gained another point. You are 
unanimously requested to come here next Tuesday and 
stay as long as you can. Aunt is in high good-humour. I 
need not write a long letter. — Good-bve, dear Nell. 

C. B. 

P.S, — I have lost the chance of seeing Anne. She is 
gone back to " The land of Egypt and the house of 
bondage." Also, little black Tom is dead. Every cup, 
however sweet, has its drop of bitterness in it. Probably 
you will be at a loss to ascertain the identity of black 
Tom, but don't fret about it, I'll tell you when you come. 
Keeper is as well, big, and grim as ever. I'm too happy 
to write. Come, come, lassie. 

It must have been during this holiday that the resolu- 
tion concerning a school of their own assumed definite 
shape. Miss Wooler talked of giving up Dewsbury 
Moor — should Charlotte and Emily take it? Char- 
lotte's recollections of her illness there settled the ques- 
tion in the negative, and Brussels was coming to the 
front. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Upperwood House, October I'jth, 1841. 

Dear Nell, — It is a cruel thing of you to be always up- 
braiding me when I am a trifle remiss or so in writing a 
letter. I see I can't make you comprehend that I have 
not quite as much time on my hands as ^liss Harris or 
Mrs. Mills. I never neglect you on purpose. I could not 
do it, you little teazing, faithless wretch. 

The humour I am in is worse than words can describe. 
I have had a hideous dinner of some abominable spiced-up 
indescribable mess, and it has exasperated me against 
the world at large. So you are coming home, are you? 
Then don't expect me to write a long letter. I am not 
going to Dewsbury Moor, as far as I can see at present. 

76 



School and Governess Life 

It was a decent friendly proposal on Miss Wooler's part, 
-and cancels all or most of her little foibles, in my estima- 
tion; but Dewsbury Moor is a poisoned place to me; 
besides, I bum to go somewhere else. I think, Nell, 
I see a chance of getting to Brussels. Mary Taylor 
-advises me to this step. My own mind and feelings urge 
me. I can't write a word more. C. B. 



TO MISS EMILY J. BRONTE 

Upperwood House, Rawdon, 
Nov. "jth, 1841. 

Dear E. J., — You are not to suppose that this note is 
written with a view of communicating any information 
on the subject we both have considerably at heart: I have 
written letters but I have received no letters in reply yet. 
Belgium is a long way off, and people are everywhere hard 
to spur up to the proper speed. Mary Taylor says we can 
scarcely expect to get off before January. I have wished 
and intended to write to both Anne and Branwell, but really 
I have not had time. 

Mr. Jenkins I find was mistakenly termed the British 
Consul at Brussels; he is in fact the English Episcopal 
clergyman. 

I think perhaps we shall find that the best plan will be for 
papa to write a letter to him by and bye, but not yet. I 
will give an intimation when this should be done, and also 
some idea of what had best be said. Grieve not over 
Dewsbury Moor. You were cut out there to all intents 
and purposes, so in fact was Anne, Miss Wooler would hear 
of neither for the first half-year. 

Anne seems omitted in the present plan, but if all goes 
right I trust she will derive her full share of benefit from 
it in the end. I exhort all to hope. I believe in my heart 
this is acting for the best, my only fear is lest others 
should doubt and be dismayed. Before our half year in 
Brussels is completed, you and I will have to seek employ- 
ment abroad. It is not my intention to retrace my steps 

77 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

home till twelve months, if all continues well and we and 
those at home retain good health. 

I shall probably take my leave of Upperwood about the 
15th or 17th of December. When does Anne talk of 
returning ? How is she ? What does W. W.^ say to these 
matters.^ How are papa and aunt, do they flag? How 
will Anne get on with Martha? Has W. W\ been seen or 
heard of lately ? Love to all. W^rite quickly. — Good-bye. 

C. Bronte. 

I am well. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Rawdon, December 10th, 1841. 

My dear Ellen^ — I hear from Mary Taylor that you are 
come home, and also that you have been ill. If you are 
able to \\Tite comfortably, let me know the feehngs that 
preceded your illness, and also its effects. I wish to see 
you. Mary Taylor reports that your looks are much as 
usual. I expect to get back to Haworth in the course of a 
fortnight or three weeks. I hope I shall then see you. I 
would rather you came to Haworth than I went to Brook- 
royd. My plans advance slowly and I am not yet certain 
where I shall go, or what I shall do when I leave Upper- 
wood House. Brussels is still my promised land, but there 
is still the wilderness of time and space to cross before I 
reach it. I am not likely, I think, to go to the Chateau de 
Kockleberg. I have heard of a less expensive establish- 
ment. So far I had written when I received your letter. 
I was glad to get it. Why don't you mention your illness. 
I had intended to have got this note oS two or three days 
past, but I am more straitened for time than ever just 
now. We have gone to bed at twelve or one o'clock 
during the last three nights. I must get this scrawl off 
to-day or you will think me negligent. The new governess, 
that is to be, has been to see my plans, etc. My dear 
Ellen, Good-bye. — BeUeve me, in heart and soul, your 
sincere friend, C. B. 

* The Rev. William Weightman. 

78 



School and Governess Life 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

December I'jthy 1841. 

My dear Ellen ^ — I am yet uncertain when I shall leave 
Upperwood, but of one thing I am very certain^ when I do 
leave I must go straight home. It is absolutely necessar}^ 
that some definite arrangement should be commenced for 
our future plans before I go visiting anywhere. That I 
wish to see you I know^ that I intend and hope to see you 
before long I also know, that you will at the first impulse 
accuse me of neglect, I fear, that upon consideration you 
will acquit me, I devoutly trust. Dear Ellen, come to 
Haworth if you can, if you cannot I will endeavour to 
come for a day at least to Brookroyd, but do not depend on 
this — come to Haworth. I thank you for Mr. Jenkins' 
address. You always think of other people's convenience, 
however ill and aSected you are yourself. How very 
much I wish to see you, you do not know; but if I were 
to go to Brookroyd now, it would deeply disappoint those 
at home. I have some hopes of seeing Branwell at Xmas, 
and when I shall be able to see him afterwards I cannot 
tell. He has never been at home for the last five months. 
— Good-night, dear Ellen, C. B. 

TO MISS MERCY NUSSEY 

Rawdon, December I'jth. 

My dear Miss Mercy, — Though I am very much engaged 
I must find time to thank you for the kind and polite 
contents of your note. I should act in the manner most 
consonant with my owti feelings if I at once, and without 
qualification, accepted your invitation. I do not how- 
ever consider it advisable to indulge myself so far at pre- 
sent. When I leave Upperwood I must go straight home. 
Whether I shall after\\^ards have time to pay a short visit 
to Brookroyd I do not yet know — circumstances must 
determine that. I would fain see Ellen at Haworth 
instead; our visitations are not shared with any show of 

79 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

justice. It shocked me very much to hear of her illness — 
may it be the first and last time she ever experiences such 
an attack ! Ellen, I fear, has thought I neglected her, in 
not writing sufficiently long or frequent letters. It is a 
painful idea to me that she has had this feeling — it could 
not be more groundless. I know her value, and I would 
not lose her affection for any probable compensation I 
can imagine. Remember me to your mother. I trust 
she will soon regain her health. — Believe me, my dear 
Miss Mercy, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, January loth, 1842. 

My Dear Ellen, — Will you write as soon as you get 
this and fix your own day for coming to Ha worth ? I got 
home on Christmas Eve. The parting scene between me 
and my late employers was such as to efface the memor>' 
of much that annoyed me while I was there, but indeed, 
during the whole of the last six months they only made 
too much of me. Anne has rendered herself so valuable 
in her difficult situation that they have entreated her to 
return to them, if it be but for a short time. I almost 
think she v/ill go back, if we can get a good servant who 
will do all our work. We want one about forty or fifty 
years old, good-tempered, clean, and honest. You shall 
hear all about Brussels, etc., when you come. Mr. 
Weightman is still here, just the same as ever. I have a 
curiosity to see a meeting between you and him. He will 
be again desperately in love, I am convinced. Co77ie. 

C. B. 



80 



CHAPTER IV 

THE PENSIONNAT HEGER^ BRUSSELS 

Had not the impulse come to Charlotte Bronte to add 
somewhat to her scholastic accomplishments by a 
sojourn in Brussels, our literature would have lost that 
powerful novel Villette, and the singularly charming 
Professor. The impulse came from the persuasion that 
without " languages '' the school project was an entirely 
hopeless one. Mary and Martha Taylor were at Brus- 
sels, staying with friends, and thence they had sent 
kindly presents to Charlotte, at this time fretting under 
the yoke of governess at Upperwood House. Charlotte 
wrote a diplomatic letter to her aunt. The good lady — 
Miss Branwell was then about sixty years of age — 
behaved handsomely by her nieces, and it was agreed 
that Charlotte and Emily were to go to the Continent, 
Anne retaining her post of governess with Mrs. Robinson 
at Thorp Green. But Brussels schools did not seem 
at the first blush to be very satisfactory. Something 
better promised at Lille. 

The life of Charlotte Bronte at Brussels has been 
mirrored for us with absolute accuracy in Villette and 
The Professor. That, indeed, from the point of view of 
local colour, is made plain to the casual visitor of 
yester-year who called in the Rue dTsabelle. The 
house, when I saw it twenty years ago, was dismantled 
with a view to its incorporation into some city buildings 
in the background. One might then still eat pears from 
the *' old and huge fruit-trees '' which flourished when 
Charlotte and Emily walked under them seventy years 
ago; one might still wander through the school-rooms, 
the long dormitories, and into the '' vine-draped herceau " 
— little enough was changed within and without. Here 
was the dormitory with its twenty beds, the two end 
ones being occupied by Emily and Charlotte, they alone 
securing the privilege of age or English eccentricity to 
curtain off their beds from the gaze of the eighteen girls 
who shared the room with them. The crucifix, indeed, 
had been removed from the niche in the Oratoire where 
the children offered up prayer every morning; but with 

8i 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

a cop3^ of Villette in hand it was possible to restore every 
feature of the place, not excluding the adjoining Athenee 
with its small window overlooking the garden of the 
Pensionnat and the allee defendu. It was from this 
window that Mr. Crimsworth of The Professor looked 
do\^m upon the girls at play. It was here, indeed, at the 
Royal Athenee, that M. Heger was Professor of Latin. 
Externally, then, the Pensionnat Heger remained for 
fifty or sixty years the same as it appeared to Char- 
lotte and Emily Bronte in February 1842, when they 
made their first appearance in Brussels. The Rue 
Fossette of Villette, the Rue d'Isabelle of The Professor, 
is the veritable Rue d'Isabelle of Currer Bell's experience. 

What, however, shall we say of the people who wan- 
dered through these rooms and gardens — the hundred 
or more children, the three of four governesses, the pro- 
fessor and his wife? Here there has been much specu- 
lation and not a little misreading of the actual facts. 
Charlotte and Emily went to Brussels to learn. They 
did learn wdth energy. It was their first experience of 
foreign travel, and it came too late in life for them to 
enter into it with that breadth of mind and tolerance of 
the customs of other lands, lacking which the English- 
man abroad is always an ofience. Charlotte and Emily 
hated the land and people. They had been brought 
up ultra-Protestants. Their father was an Ulster man, 
and his one venture into the polemics of his age was to 
attack the proposals for Catholic emancipation. With 
this inheritance of intolerance, how could Charlotte and 
Emily face with kindliness the Romanism which they 
saw around them ? How heartily Charlotte disapproved 
of it many a picture in Villette has made plain to us. 

Charlotte had been in Brussels three months when she 
made the friendship to which I am indebted for anything 
that there may be to add to this episode in her life. Miss 
Laetitia WheelwTight was one of five sisters, the daughters 
of a doctor in Lower Phillimore Place, Kensington. Dr. 
WheelwTight went to Brussels for his health and for his 
children's education. The girls were day boarders at the 
Pensionnat, but they lived in the house for a full month 
or more at a time when their father and mother were on 
a trip up the Rhine. Othersvise their abode was a flat in 
the Hotel Clusyenaar in the Rue Royale, and there dur- 
ing her later stay in Brussels Charlotte frequently paid 
them visits. In this earlier period Charlotte and Emily 

^2 



The Pensionnat Heger^ Brussels 

were too busy with their books to think of " calls '* and 
the like frivolities, and it must be confessed also that at 
this stage Lsetitia Wheelwright would have thought it 
too high a price for a visit from Charlotte to receive as 
a fellow-guest the apparently unamiable Emily. Miss 
Wheelwright, who was herself fourteen years of age when 
she entered the Pensionnat Heger, once recalled to me the 
two sisters, thin and sallow-looking, pacing up and down 
the garden, friendless and alone. It was the sight of 
Laetitia standing up in the class-room and glancing 
round with a semi-contemptuous air at all these Belgian 
girls which attracted Charlotte Bronte to her. '' It 
was so very English," Miss Bronte laughingly remarked 
at a later period to her friend. There was one other 
English girl at this time of sufficient age to be com- 
panionable; but with Maria Miller, whom Charlotte 
Bronte has depicted under the guise of Ginevra Fan- 
shawe, she had less in common. 

To Miss Wheelwright and her sisters, all of whom have 
died since this book was first written, the descriptions 
of the Pensionnat Heger which are given in Villette and 
The Professor are perfectly accurate. M. Heger, with 
his heavy black moustache and his black hair, entering 
the class-room of an evening to read to his pupils was a 
sufficiently familiar object, and his keen intelhgence 
amounting almost to genius had affected the Wheel- 
wright girls as forcibly as it had done the Brontes. Mme. 
Heger, again, for ever peeping from behind doors and 
through the plate-glass partitions which separate the 
passages from the school-rooms, was a constant source 
of irritation to all the English pupils. This prying and 
spying is, it is possible, more of a fine art with the 
school-mistresses of the Continent than with those of 
oar own land. In any case, Mme. Heger was an accom- 
plished spy, and in the midst of the most innocent work 
or recreation the pupils would suddenly see a pair of eyes 
pierce the dusk and disappear. This, and a hundred 
similar trifles, went to build up an antipathy on both 
sides, which had, however, scarcely begun when Char- 
lotte and Emily were suddenly called home by their 
aunt's death in October.^ A letter to Miss Nussey on 
her return sufficiently explains the situation. 

* It is only fair to say that later pupils, notably Mrs. Frederika 
Macdonald, who was at the school under M. and Madame Heger 
after the Brontes had left, had a kindlier feeling for Madame Heger, 

83 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ November loth, 1842. 

My dear Ellen^ — I was not yet returned to England 
when your letter arrived. We received the first news of 
aunt's illness^ Wednesday, Nov. 2nd. We decided to 
come home directly. Next morning a second letter 
informed us of her death. We sailed from Antwerp on 
Sunday; we travelled day and night and got home on 
Tuesday morning — and of course the funeral and all was 
over. We shall see her no more. Papa is pretty well. 
We found Anne at home; she is pretty well also. You 
say you have had no letter from me for a long time. I 
wrote to you three weeks ago. When you answer this 
note, I will write to you more in detail. Aunt, Martha 
Taylor, and Mr. Weightman are now all gone; how dreary 
and void everything seems. Mr. Weightman's illness was 
exactly what Martha's was — he was ill the same length 
of time and died in the same manner. Aunt's disease was 
internal obstruction; she also was ill a fortnight. 

Good-bye, my dear Ellen. C. Bronte. 

The aunt whose sudden death brought Charlotte and 
Emil}^ Bronte thus hastily from Brussels to Haworth 
must have been a very sensible woman in the main. She 
left her money to those of her nieces who most needed it. 
Bran well's name was not omitted as Mrs. Gaskell seemed 
to think. She left him a memento. A perusal of her 
will indicates that it was made in 1833, before Bran well 
had paid his first visit to London, and when, as all his 
family supposed, he was on the high road to fame and 
fortune as an artist. The old lady doubtless thought that 
the boy would be able to take good care of himself. 

Three or four letters, above and beyond these already 
published, were written by Charlotte to her friend in the 
interval between Miss Branwell's death and her return to 
Brussels ; and she paid a visit to Miss Nussey at Brook- 
royd, and it was returned. 



84 



The Pensionnat Heger, Brussels 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ November 20th, 1842. 

Dear Ellen^ — I hope your brother is sufficiently 
recovered now to dispense with your constant attendance. 
Papa desires his compUments to you^ and says he should be 
very glad if you could give us your company at Haworth 
a little while. Can you come on Friday next ? I mention 
so early a day because Anne leaves us to return to York 
on Monday^ and she wishes very much to see you before 
her departure. I think your brother is too good-natured 
to object to your coming. There is little enough pleasure 
in this worlds and it would be truly unkind to deny to you 
and me that of meeting again after so long a separation. 
Do not fear to find us melancholy or depressed. We are 
all much as usual. You will see no difference from our 
former demeanour. Send an immediate answer. 

My love and best wishes to your sister and mother. 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ November 2^th, 1842. 

My dear Ellen^ — I hope that invitation of yours was 
given in real earnest^ for I intend to accept it. I wish to 
see you, and as in a few weeks I shall probably again leave 
England, I will not be too dehcate and ceremonious and 
so let the present opportunity pass. Something says to me 
that it will not be too convenient to have a guest at Brook- 
royd while there is an invalid there — however, I listen to 
no such suggestions. Anne leaves Haworth on Tuesday 
at 6 o'clock in the morning, and we should reach Bradford 
at half-past eight. There are many reasons why I should 
have preferred your coming to Haworth, but as it appears 
there are always obstacles which prevent that, I'll break 
through ceremony, or pride, or whatever it is, and, like 
Mahomet, go to the mountain which won't or can't come 

8s 



The. Brontes and Their Circle 

to me. The coach stops at the Bowling Green Inn, in 
Bradford. Give my love to your sister and mother. 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, January loth, 1843. 

Dear Nell, — It is a singular state of things to be 
obliged to write and have nothing worth reading to say. 
I am glad you got home safe. You are an excellent good 
girl for writing to me two letters, especially as they were 
such long ones. Bran well wants to know why you care- 
fully exclude all mention of him when you particularly 
send your regards to every other member of the family. 
He desires to know whether and in what he has offended 
you, or whether it is considered improper for a young lady 
to mention the gentlemen of a house. We have been 
one walk on the moors since you left. We have been to 
Keighley, where we met a person of our acquaintance, 
who uttered an interjection of astonishment on meeting 
us, and when he could get his breath, informed us that he 
had heard I was dead and buried. C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, January 15th, 1843. 
Dear Nell, — I am much obliged to you for trans- 
ferring the roll of muslin. Last Saturday I found the 
other gift, for which you deserve smothering. I will 
deliver Bran well your message. You have left your 
Bible — how can I send it? I cannot tell precisely what 
day I leave home, but it will be the last week in this 
month. Are you going with me? I admire exceedingly 
the costume you have chosen to appear in at the Birstall 
rout. I think you say pink petticoat, black jacket, and a 
wreath of roses — beautiful ! For a change I would advise 
a black coat, velvet stock and waistcoat, white pantaloons, 
and smart boots. Address Rue dTsabelle. Write to me 
again, that's a good girl, very soon. Respectful re- 
membrances to your mother and sister. C. Bronte. 

86 



The Pensionnat Heger^ Brussels 

Then she is in Brussels again, as the following letter 
indicates. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Brussels^ January ^oth, 1843. 

Dear Ellen^ — I left Leeds for London last Friday at 
nine o'clock; owing to delay we did not reach London till 
ten at night — two hours after time. I took a cab the 
moment I arrived at Euston Square, and went forthwith 
to London Bridge Wharf. The packet lay off that wharf, 
and I went on board the same night. Next morning we 
sailed. We had a prosperous and speedy voyage, and 
landed at Ostend at seven o'clock next morning. I took 
the train at twelve and reached Rue d'Isabelle at seven 
in the evening. Madame Heger received me with great 
kindness. I am still tired with the continued excitement 
of three days' travelling. I had no accident, but of course 
some anxiety. Miss Dixon called this afternoon.^ Mary 
Taylor had told her I should be in Brussels the last week 
in January. I am going there on Sunday, d.v. Address — 
Miss Bronte, Chez Mme. Heger, 32 Rue d'Isabelle, 
Bruxelles. — Good-bye, dear. C. B. 

This second visit of Charlotte Bronte to Brussels has 
given rise to much speculation, some of it of not the 
pleasantest kind. It is well to face the point bluntly, 
for it has been more than once implied that Chaxlotte 
Bronte was in love with M. Heger, as her prototype Lucy 
Snowe was in love with Paul Emanuel. There is a 
passage in a printed letter to Miss Nussey which has been 
frequently quoted: '' I returned to Brussels after aunt's 
death,'' she writes, " against my conscience, prompted 
by what then seemed an irresistible impulse. I was 
punished for my selfish folly by a total withdrawal for 
more than two years of happiness and peace of mind." 

There has been much discussion of this last sentence 
and that Charlotte Bronte fell in love with her professor 
has been frequently accepted by some critics and per- 

^ Miss Mary Dixon, the sister of Mr. George Dixon, M.P., was 
alive until recently, but she unfortunately did not preserve her 
letters from Charlotte Bronte. 

87 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

tinaciously denied by others. There are various ways 
of falling in love and many kinds of love. That M. 
Heger was the only man that Charlotte had met who 
possessed brains gave her a very natural hero-worship 
for him which was reflected in certain letters which have 
lately seen the light. ^ 

TO M. CONSTANTINE HEGER, Brussels 

Haworth, July 24th, 1844. 

Monsieur, — Je sais bien que ce n'est pas a mon tour 
de vous ecrire, mais puisque M<^^ Wheelwright va a 
Bruxelles et veut bien se charger d'une lettre — il me 
semble que je ne dois pas negliger une occasion si favorable 
pour vous ecrire. 

Je suis tres contente que I'annee scolaire soit presque 
finie et que I'epoque des vacances approche — j'en suis 
contente pour vous Monsieur — car, on m'a dit que vous 
travaillez trop et que votre sante en est un peu alteree — 
C'est pourquoi je ne me permets pas de proferer une seule 
plainte au sujet de votre long silence — j'aimerais mieux 
rester six mois sans recevoir de vos nouvelles que d'ajouter 
un atome de poids, deja trop lourd, qui vous accable — Je 
me rappelle bien que c'est maintenant I'epoque des com- 
positions, que ce sera bientot celle des examens et puis, 
des prix — et pendant tout ce temps, vous etes condamne 
a respirer I'atmosphere dessechante des classes — a vous 
user — a exphquer, a interroger a parler toute la joumee 
et puis le soir vous avez toutes ces malheureuses com- 
positions a lire, a corriger, presqu'a refaire — Ah Monsieur! 
je vous ai ecrit une fois une lettre peu raisonnable, par 
ce que le chagrin me serrait le coeur, mais je ne le ferai 
plus — je tacherai de ne plus etre egoiste et tout en re- 
gardant vous [sic J for " vos "] lettres comme un de plus 
grands bonheurs que je connaisse j'attendrai patiemment 
pour en recevoir jusqu'a ce qu'il vous plaira et vous 
conviendra de m'en envoyer. En meme temps je puis 

^ They were presented to the British Museum by Dr. Paul Heger, 
of Brussels, the son of M. Constantin Heger, and first appeared in 
The Times of July 29, 19 13, with a translation by Mr. M. H. Spiel- 
mann, which I am indebted to him for leave to use here. 

88 



The Pensionnat Heger, Brussels 

bien vous ecrire de temps en temps une petite lettre — 
vous m'y avez autorisee. 

Je Grains beaucoup d'oublier le francais^ car je suis bien 
persuadee que je vous reverrai un jour — je ne sais pas 
comment ni quand — mais cela doit etre puisque je le 
desire tant^ et alors je ne voudrais pas rester muette 
devant vous — ce serait trop triste de vous voir et de ne 
pas pouvoir vous parler [:] pour eviter ce malheur — 
j'apprends, tous les jours^ une demie page de francais par 
cceur dans un livre de style familier: et j'ai un plaisir a 
apprendre cette legon — Monsieur — quand je prononce les 
mots francais il me semble que je cause avec vous. 

On vient de m'offrir une place comme premiere maitresse 
dans un grand pensionnat a Manchester^ avec un traite- 
ment de 100/ i.e. 2500 frs par an — je ne puis pas Faccepter 
— car en Facceptant je dois quitter m.Qn pere et cela ne 
se pent pas — J'ai cependant mon projet— (lorsqu'on vit 
dans la retraite le cerveau travaille toujours — on desire 
s'occuper — on veut se lancer dans une carriere active). 
Notre Presb}i:ere est une maison assez grande — avec 
quelques changements il y aura de la place pour cinq ou 
six pensionnaires — si je pouvais trouver ce nombre 
d'enfants de bonne famille je me devouerais a leur educa- 
tion — Emilie n'aime pas beaucoup I'instruction mais elle 
s'occuperait toujours du menage et, quoiqu' [un] peu 
recluse^ elle a trop bon coeur pour ne pas faire son possible 
pour le bien-etre des enfants — elle est aussi tres genereuse 
et pour I'ordre, I'economie^ I'exactitude — le travail assidu 
— toute[s] choses tres essentielles dans un pensionnat — 
je m'en charge volontier[s]. 

Voila mon pro jet Monsieur, que j'ai deja explique a 
mon pere et qu'il trouve bon. II ne reste done [the last 
three words almost undecipherable under the slip of re- 
pairing paper] que de trouver des eleves — chose assez 
difficile — car nous demeurons assez loin des villes et on ne 
se soucie guere de franchir les montagnes qui nous servant 
de barriere — mais [la] tache qui est sans difficulte est 
presque sans merite — il y a un grand interet a vaincre 
les obstacles — Je ne dis pas que je reussirai mais je 

89 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

tacherai de reussir — le seul effort me fera du bien — il n'y 
a rien que je crains comme la paresse — le desoeuvrement — 
rinertie — la lethargic des facultes — quand le corps est 
paresseux, I'esprit souffre cruellement. 

Je ne connaitrais pas cette lethargie si je pouvais ecrire 
— autrefois je passais des journees^ des semaines, des mois 
entiers a ecrire et pas tout a fait sans fruit puisque Southey^ 
et Coleridge — deux de nos meilleurs auteurs^ a que j'ai 
envoye certains manuscrits en ont bien voulu temoigner 
leur approbation — mais a present j'ai la vue trop faible 
pour ecrire— si j'ecrivais beaucoup je deviendrais aveugle. 
Cette faiblesse de vue est pour moi une terrible privation — 
sans cela savez-vous ce que je ferais Monsieur? — j'ecrirais 
un livre et je le dedierais a mon maitre de literature — au 
seul maitre que j'ai jamais eu — a vous Monsieur. Je vous 
ai souvent dit en frangais combien je vous respecte — com- 
bien je suis redevable a votre bonte^ a vos conseils, je 
voudrais le dire une fois en anglais — Cela ne se peut pas — 
il ne faul pas y penser — la carriere de lettres m'est ferm^e 
— celle de 1' instruction seule m'est ouverte — elle n'offre 
pas les memes attraits — c'est egal^ j'y entrerai et si je n'y 
vais pas loin^ ce ne sera pas [par] manque de diligence. 
Vous aussi Monsieur — vous avez voulu etre avocat — le 
sort ou la Providence vous a fait professeur — vous etes 
heureux malgre cela. 

Veuillez presenter a Madame I'assurance de mon estime 
— je crains que Maria-Louise-Claire ne m'aient deja 
oubliee. Prospere et Victorine ne m'ont jamais bien 
connue — moi je me souviens bien de tous les -cinq — sur- 
tout de Louise — elle avait tant de caract^re — tant de 
naivete dans sa petite figure. — Adieu Monsieur, — Votre 
el^ve reconnaissante, C. Bronte. 

July 24.th. 

Je ne vous ai pas prie de m 'ecrire bientot, puisque je 
crains de vous importuner — mais vous etes trop bon pour 
oublier que je le desire tout de meme — oui — je le desire 
beaucoup — c'est assez — apres tout — faites comme vous 
voudrez monsieur — si, enfin je recevais une lettre et si je 

90 



The Pensionnat Heger, Brussels 

croyais que vous Faviez ecrite par pitie — cela me ferait 
beaucoup de mal — 

II parait que M.^^ Wheelwright va a Paris avant d'aller 
a Bruxelles — mais elle mettra ma lettre a la poste a 
Boulogne — encore une fois adieu monsieur cela fait mal 
de dire adieu meme dans une lettre — Oh c'est certain 
que je vous reverrai un jour — il le faut bien — puisque 
aussitot que j'aurai gagne assez d'argent pour aller a 
Bruxelles j'y irai — et je vous reverrai si ce n'est que pour 
un instant.^ 

^ Monsieur, — I am well aware that it is not my turn to write to 
you, but as Mrs. Wheelwright is going to Brussels and is kind 
enough to take charge of a letter — it appears to me that I ought not 
to neglect so favourable an opportunity of writing to you. 

I am very pleased that the school-year is nearly over and that 
the hoUdays are approaching. — I am pleased on your account, 
Monsieur — for I am told that you are working too hard and that 
your health has suffered somewhat in consequence. For that 
reason I refrain from uttering a single complaint for your long 
silence — I would rather remain six months without receiving news 
from you than add one grain to the weight, already too heavy, 
which overwhelms you. I know well that it is now the period of 
compositions, that it will soon be that of examinations and later 
on of prizes — and during all that time 3^ou are condemned to breathe 
the stifling atmosphere of the class-rooms — to spend yourself — to 
explain, to question, to talk all day, and then in the evening you 
have all those wretched compositions to read, to correct, almost 
to re- write — Ah, Monsieur! I once wrote you a letter that was less 
than reasonable, because sorrow was at my heart; but I shall do 
so no more. — I shall try to be selfish no longer; and even while I 
look upon your letters as one of the greatest felicities known to 
me I shall await the receipt of them in patience until it pleases you 
and suits you to send me any. Meanwhile I may well send you 
a little letter from time to time: — you have authorised me to do so. 

I greatly fear that I shall forget French, for I am firmly con- 
vinced that I shall see you again some day — I know not how or 
when — but it must be for I wish it so much, and then I should not 
wish to remain dumb before you — it would be too sad to see you 
and not be able to speak to you. To avoid such a misfortune I 
leam every day by heart a half a page of French from a book 
written in familiar style: and I take pleasure in learning this lesson, 
Monsieur; as I pronounce the French words it seems to me as if I 
were chatting with you. 

I have just been offered a situation as first governess in a large 
school in Manchester, with a salary of jfioo [i.e. 2500 francs) per 
annum. I cannot accept it, for in accepting it I should have to 
leave my father, and that I cannot do. Nevertheless I have a plan 
— (when one lives retired the brain goes on working; there is the 
desire of occupation, the wish to embark on an active career). Our 
vicarage is rather a large house — with a few alterations there will 

91 



The Brontes and Their Circle 



TO M. CONSTANTIN HEGER, Brussels 

Ha WORTH, October 24th, 1844. 

Monsieur, — Je suis toute joyeuse ce matin — ce qui ne 
m'arrive pas souvent depuis deux ans — c'est parceque 
un Monsieur de mes connaissances va passer par Bruxelles 
et qu'il a offert de se charger d'une lettre pour vous — 
laquelle lettre il vous remettra luimeme, ou bien, sa soeur, 
de sorte que je serai certaine que vous I'avez regue. 

Ce n'est pas une longue lettre que je vais ecrire — d'abord 
je n'ai pas le temps — il faut que cela parte tout de suite 
et ensuite je crains de vous ennuyer. Je voudrais seule- 
ment vous demander, si vous avez regu de mes nouvelles 
au commencement du mois de Mai et puis au mois d'Aout? 
Voila six mois que j 'attends une lettre de Monsieur — six 
mois d'attente c'est bien long, cela! Pourtant je ne me 
plains pas et je serai richement recompensee pour un peu 
de chagrin — si vous voulez maintenant ecrire une lettre 

be room for five or six boarders. If I could find this number of 
children of good family I should devote myself to their education. 
Emily does not care much for teaching but she would look after 
the housekeeping and, although something of a recluse, she is too 
good-hearted not to do all she could for the well-being of the 
children. Moreover she is very generous, and as for order, economy, 
strictness — and diligent work — all of them things very essential in 
a school — I willingly take that upon myself. 

That, Monsieur, is my plan, which I have already explained to 
my father and which he approves. It only remains to find the 
pupils — rather a difiicult thing — for we live rather far from towns 
and one does not greatly care about crossing the hills which form as 
it were a barrier around us. But the task that is without difficulty 
is almost without merit; there is great interest in triumphing over 
obstacles. I do not say I shall succeed but I shall try to succeed — 
the effort alone will do me good. There is nothing I fear so much 
as idleness, the want of occupation, inactivity, the lethargy of the 
faculties: when the body is idle the spirit suffers painfully. 

I should not know this lethargy if I could write. Formerly I 
passed whole days and weeks and months in writing, not wholly 
without result, for Southey and Coleridge — two of our best authors, 
to whom I sent certain manuscripts — were good enough to express 
their approval; but now my sight is too weak to write. — Were I 
to write much I should become blind. This weakness of sight is 
a terrible hindrance to me. Otherwise do you know what I should 
do. Monsieur? — I should write a book and I should dedicate it to 
my literature-master — to the only master I ever had — to you, 

92 



The Pensionnat Heger, Brussels 

et la donner a ce monsieur — ou a sa soeur qui me la remet- 
trait sans faute. 

Quelque courte que soit la lettre j'en serai satisfaite — 
n'oubliez pas seulement de me dire comment vous vous 
portez Monsieur et comment Madame et les enfants se 
portent et les maitresses et les eleves. 

Mon pere et ma soeur vous presentent leurs respects — 
rinfirmite de mon pere augmente peu a peu — cependant 
il n'est pas encore tout a fait aveugle — mes soeurs se por- 
tent bien mais mon pauvre frere est tou jours malade. 

Adieu Monsieur, je compte bientot avoir de vos nou- 
velles — cette idee me sourit car le souvenir de vos bontes 
ne s'effacera jamais de ma memoire et tant que ce souvenir 
durera le respect qu'il m'a inspire durera aussi. — Votre 
eleve tres devouee C. Bronte. 

Je viens de faire relier tous les livres que vous m'avez 
donnes quand j'etais a Bruxelles [;] j'ai un plaisir a les 
considerer — cela fait tout une petite bibliotheque — II y a 

Monsieur. I have often told you in French how much I respect 
you — how much I am indebted to your goodness, to your advice; 
I should like to say it once in English. But that cannot be — it is 
not to be thought of. The career of letters is closed to me — only 
that of teaching is open. It does not offer the same attractions; 
never mind, I shall enter it and if I do not go far it will not be from 
want of industry. You too, Monsieur — you wished to be a barrister 
— destiny or Providence made you a professor; you are happy in 
spite of it. 

Please convey to Madame the assurance of my esteem. I fear 
that Maria, Louise, Claire have already forgotten me. Prospere 
and Victorine never knew me well; I remember well all five of 
them, especially Louise. She had so much character — so much 
naivete in her little face. — Goodbye, Monsieur, your grateful 
pupil, C. Bronte. 

July 24th. 

I have not begged you to write to me soon as I fear to importune 
you — but you are too kind to forget that I wish it all the same — 
yes, I wish it greatly. Enough ; after all, do as you wish, Monsieur. 
If, then, I received a letter and if I thought that you had written it" 
out of pity — I should feel deeply wounded. 

It seems that Mrs. Wheelwright is going to Paris before going 
to Brussels — but she will post my letter at Boulogne. Once more 
goodbye, Monsieur; it hurts to say goodbye even in a letter. Oh, 
it is certain that I shall see you again one day — it must be so — for 
as soon as I shall have earned enough money to go to Brussels I 
shall go there — and I shall see you again if only for a moment. 

93 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

d'abord les ouvrages complets de Bernardin St. Pierre — 
Les Pensees de Pascal — un livre de poesie^ deux livres 
allemands — et (ce qui vaut tout le reste) deux discours de 
Monsieur le Professeur Heger — prononces a la distribution 
des Prix de FAthenee royal — ^ 



TO M. CONSTANTIN HEGER 

Haworth^ January Sth, 1845. 

Mr. Taylor est revenu^ je lui ai demande s'il n'avait pas 
une lettre pour moi — '* Non, rien." '' Patience " — dis-je 
— ** sa soeur viendra bientot ^' — Mademoiselle Taylor est 

^ Translated by M. H. Spielmann. 

Octb. 24th, 1844. 

Monsieur, — I am in high glee this morning — and that has 
rarely happened to me these last two years. It is because a gentle- 
man of my acquaintance is going to Brussels and has offered to 
take charge of a letter for you — which letter he will deliver to you 
himself, or else, his sister, so that I shall be certain that you have 
received it. 

I am not going to write a long letter; in the first place, I have not 
the time — it must leave at once; and then, I am afraid of worrying 
you. I would only ask of you if you heard from me at the beginning 
of May and again in the month of August ? For six months I have 
been awaiting a letter from Monsieur — six months' waiting is very 
long, you know ! However, I do not complain and I shall be richly 
rewarded for a little sorrow if you will now write a letter and give 
it to this gentleman — or to his sister — who will hand it to me with- 
out fail. 

I shall be satisfied with the letter however brief it be — only do 
not forget to tell me of your health. Monsieur, and how Madame and 
the children are, and the governesses and pupils. 

My father and my sister send you their respects. My father's 
infirmity increases little by little. Nevertheless he is not yet 
entirely blind. My sisters are well, but my poor brother is still ill. 

Farewell, Monsieur; I am depending on soon having your news. 
The idea delights me for the remembrance of your kindnesses will 
never fade from my memory, and as long as that remembrance 
endures the respect with which it has inspired me will endure like- 
wise. — Your very devoted pupil, C. Bronte. 

I have just had bound all the books you gave me when I was at 
Brussels. I take delight in contemplating them; they make quite 
a little library. To begin with, there are the complete works of 
Bernardin de St. Pierre — the Pens6es de Pascal — a book of poetry, 
two German books — and (worth all the rest) two discourses of 
Monsieur le Professeur Heger, delivered at the distribution of 
prizes of the Athenee Royal. 

94 



The Pensionnat Heger, Brussels 

revenue. " Je n'ai rien pour vous de la part de Monsieur 
Heger " dit-elle " ni lettre ni message." 

Ayant bien compris ces mots — je me suis dit, ce que 
je dirais a un autre en pareille circonstance. " II faut 
vous resigner et, surtout^ ne pas vous affliger d'un malheur 
que vous n'avez pas merite. Je me suis efforcee a ne pas 
pleurer a ne pas me plaindre — 

Mais quand on ne se plait pas et qu'on veut se dominer 
en tyran — les facultes se revoltent — et on paie le calme 
exterieur par une lutte interieure presque insupportable [.] 

Jour et nuit je ne trouve ni repos ni paix — si je dors 
je fais des reves tourmentants oii je vous vois toujours 
severe^ toujours sombre et irrite contre moi — 

Pardonnez-moi done Monsieur si je prends la partie 
de vous ecrire encore — Comment puis-je supporter la vie 
si je ne fais pas un effort pour en alleger les souffrances ? 

Je sais que vous serez impatiente quand vous lirez cette 
lettre — Vous direz encore que je suis exaltee — que j'ai 
des pensees noires &c. Soit Monsieur — je ne cherche 
pas a me justifier^ je me soumets a toutes sortes de re- 
proches — tout ce que je sais — c'est que je ne puis pas — 
que je ne veux pas me resigner a perdre entierement 
I'amitie de mon maitre — j'aime mieux subir les plus 
grandes souleurs physiques que d'avoir toujours le coeur 
lacere par des regrets cuisants. Si mon maitre me retire 
entidrement son amitie je serai tout a fait sans espoir — 
s'il en donne un peu — tres peu — je serai contente — ^heu- 
reuse, j'aurai un motif pour vivre — pour travailler. 

Monsieur, les pauvres n'ont pas besoin de grand'chose 
pour vivre — ils ne den:iandent que les miettes de pain qui 
tombe de la table des riches — mais si on les refuse les 
miettes de pain — ils meurent de faim — Moi non plus je 
n'ai pas besoin de beaucoup d'affection de la part de ceux 
que j'aime je ne saurais que faire d'une amitie entiere et 
complete — je n'y suis pas habituee — mais vous me te- 
moigniez, autrefois, un peu d'interet quand j'etais votre 
eleve a Bruxelles — et je tiens a conserver ce peu d'interet — 
j'y tiens comme je tiendrais k la vie. 

Vous me direz peutetre — Je ne vous porte plus le moindre 

95 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

interet Mademoiselle Charlotte — vous n'etes plus de ma 
Maison — je vous ai oubliee. 

Eh bien Monsieur dites moi cela franchement — ce sera 
pour moi un choc — n'importe ce sera toujours moins 
hideux que I'incertitude. 

Je ne veux pas relire cette lettre — je I'envoie comme je 
Tai ecrite — Pourtant, j'ai comme la conscience obscure 
qu'il y a des personnes froides et sensees qui diraient en 
la lisant — '' elle deraisonne " — Pour toute vengeance — 
je souhaite a ces personnes — un seul jour des tourments 
[que — a portion of paper is covered by a fragment torn 
from another part] j'ai subis depuis huit mois — on verrait 
alors s'elles [ne] deraisonneraient pas de meme. 

On sQuffre en silence tant qu'on en a la force et quand 
cette force manque on parle sans trop mesurer ses paroles. 

Je souhaite a Monsieur le bonheur et la prosperite 

C. B} 

^ The translation by M. H. Spielmann runs as follows: 

Mr. Taylor has returned. I asked him if he had a letter for 
me. '• No; nothing." " Patience," said I — " his sister will be 
here soon." Miss Taylor has returned. " I have nothing for you 
from Monsieur Heger," says she; ** neither letter nor message." 

Having realised the meaning of these words, I said to myself 
what I should say to another similarly placed: " You must be re- 
signed, and above all do not grieve at a misfortune which you have 
nor deserved." I strove to restrain my tears, to utter no complaint. 

But when one does not complain, when one seeks to dominate 
oneself with a tyrant's grip, the faculties start into rebellion and 
one pays for external calm with an internal struggle that is almost 
unbearable. 

Day and night I find neither rest nor peace. If I sleep I am dis- 
turbed by tormenting dreams in which I see you, always severe, 
always grave, always incensed against me. 

Forgive me then. Monsieur, if I adopt the course of writing to 
you again. How can I endure life if I make no effort to ease its 
sufferings? 

I know that you will be irritated when you read this letter. You 
will say once more that I am hysterical [or neurotic] — that I have 
black thoughts, etc. So be it. Monsieur; I do not seek to justify 
myself; I submit to every sort of reproach. All I know is, that I 
cannot, that I will not, resign myself to lose wholly the friendship 
of my master. I would rather suffer the greatest physical pain 
than always have my heart lacerated by smarting regrets. If my 
master withdraws his friendship from me entirely I shall be alto- 
gether without hope; if he gives me a little — just a little — I shall 
be satisfied — happy ; I shall have a reason for living on, for working. 

Monsieur, the poor have not need of much to sustain them — 

96 



The Pensionnat Heger^ Brussels 



TO M. CONSTANTIN HEGER, Brussels 

Haworth, Nov, iSth^ 1845. 

Monsieur, — Les six mois de silence sont ecoules; nous 
sommes aujourd'hui an 18 Novbre, ma demi^re lettre 
etait datee (je crois) le 18 mai^ je puis done vous ecrire, 
sans manquer a ma promesse. 

L'ete et Tautomne m'ont paru bien longs; a vrai dire 
il m'a fallu des efforts penibles pour supporter jusqu'a 
present la privation que je me suis imposee: vous ne 
pouvez pas concevoir cela^ vous, Monsieur, mais imaginez 
vous, pour un instant, qu'un de vos enfants est separe de 
vous de 160 lieues de distance et que vous devez rester 
six mois sans lui ecrire, sans recevoir de ses nouvelles, 
sans en entendre parler; sans savoir comment il se porte, 
alors vous comprendrez facilement tout ce qu'il y a de dure 
dans une pareille obligation. Je vous dirai franchement, 
qu'en attendant, j'ai tache de vous oublier, car le souvenir 
d'une personne que Ton croit ne devoir plus revoir et 
que, pourtant, on estime beaucoup, harasse trop Tesprit et 

they ask only for the crumbs that fall from the rich man's table. 
But if they are refused the crombs they die of hunger. Nor do I, 
either, need much affection from those I love. I should not know 
what to do with a friendship entire and complete — I am not used 
to it. But you showed me of yore a little interest, when I was your 
pupil in Brussels, and I hold on to the maintenance of that little 
mterest — I hold on to it as I would hold on to life. 

You will tell me perhaps — " I take not the slightest interest 
in you, Mademoiselle Charlotte. You are no longer an inmate of 
my House; I have forgotten you." 

Well, Monsieur, tell me so frankly. It will be a shock to me. It 
matters not. It would be less dreadful than imcertainty. 

I shall not re-read this letter. I send it as I have written it. 
Nevertheless, I have a hidden consciousness that some people, cold 
and common-sense, in reading it would say — " She is talking non- 
sense." I would avenge myself on such persons in no other way 
than by wishing them one single day of the torments which I have 
suffered for eight months. We should then see if they would not 
talk nonsense too. 

One suffers in silence so long as one has the strength so to do, 
and when that strength gives out one speaks without too carefully 
measmnng one's words. 

I wish Monsieur happiness and prosperity. C. B. 

Jany. Sth. Haworth, Bradford, Yorkshire. 

97 i> 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

quand on a subi cette espdce d'inquietude pendant un ou 
deux ans^ on est pret k tout faire pour retrouver le repos. 
J'ai tout fait^ j'ai cherche les occupations^ je me suis interdit 
absolument le plaisir de parler de vous — meme a Emilie 
mais je n'ai pu vaincre ni mes regrets ni mon impatience — 
c'est humiliant cela — de ne pas savoir maitriser ses propres 
pensees, etre esclave a un regret, un souvenir, esclave a une 
idee dominante et fixe qui tyrannise son esprit. Que ne 
puis-je avoir pour vous juste autant d'amitie que vous 
avez pour moi — ni plus ni moins? Je serais alors si 
tranquille, si libre — je pourrais garder le silence pendant 
six ans sans effort. 

Mon pere se porte bien mais sa vue est presque eteinte, 
il ne sait plus ni lire ni ecrire; c'est, pourtant, I'avis des 
medecins d'attendre encore quelques mois avant de tenter 
une operation — Fhiver ne sera pour lui qu'une longue nuit 
— il se plaint rarement, j 'admire sa patience — Si la Provi- 
dence me destine la meme calamite — puisse-t-elle au moins 
m'accorder autant de patience pour la supporter ! II me 
semble, monsieur, que ce qu'il y a de plus amere dans 
les grands malheurs physiques c'est d'etre force a faire 
partager nos souff ranees a tous ceux qui nous entourent; 
on pent cacher les maladies de I'ame mais celles qui 
attaquent le corps et detruisent les facultes, ne se cachent 
pas. Mon p^re me permet maintenant de lui lire et 
d'ecrire pour lui, il me temoigne aussi plus de confiance 
qu'il ne m'en a jamais temoignee, ce qui est une grande 
consolation. 

Monsieur, j'ai une grace a vous demander: quand vous 
repondrez a cette lettre, parlez-moi un peu de vous-meme 
pas de moi [,] car, je sais, que si vous me parlez de moi ce 
sera pour me gronder et, cette fois, je voudrais voir votre 
cote bienveillant; parlez-moi done de vos enfants; jamais 
vous n'aviez le front severe quand Louise et Claire et 
Prosper etaient pres de vous. Dites-moi aussi quelque 
chose du Pensionnat, des eleves, des Maitresses — Mesde- 
moiselles Blanche, Sophie et Justine restent-elles toujours 
a Bruxelles ? Dites-moi oii vous avez voyage pendant les 
vacances — n'avez vous pas ete sur les bords du Rhin.^ 

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The Pensionnat Heger, Brussels 

N'avez-vous pas visite Cologne ou Coblentz? Dites-moi 
enfin ce que vous voulez mon maitre mais dites-moi 
quelque chose, ifecrire a une ci-devant sous-maitresse 
(non — ^je ne veux pas me souvenir de mon emploi de sous- 
maitresse je le renie) mais enfin, ecrire a une ancienne 
^l^ve ne peut-etre une occupation fort interessante pour 
vous — je le sais — ^mais pour moi c'est la vie. Votre demiere 
lettre m'a servi de soutiens — de nourriture pendant six 
mois — a present il m'en faut une autre et vous me le 
donnerez — pas parceque vous avez pour moi de I'amitie — 
vous ne pouvez en avoir beaucoup — mais parceque vous 
avez Tame compatissante et que vous ne condanmeriez 
personne a de longues souffrances pour vous epargner 
quelques moments d 'ennui. Me defendre a vous ecrire, 
refuser de me repondre ce sera de m'arracher la seule joie 
que j'ai au monde, me priver de mon dernier privilege — 
privilege auquel je ne consentirai jamais a renoncer volon- 
tairement. Croyez-moi mon maitre, en m'ecrivant vous 
faites un bon oeuvre — tant que je vous crois assez content 
de moi, tant que j'ai Tespoir de recevoir de vos nouvelles 
je puis etre tranquille et pas trop triste mais quand un 
silence morne et prolonge semble m'avertir de Feloigne- 
ment de mon maitre a mon egard — quand de jour en jour 
j'attends une lettre et que de jour en jour le desappointe- 
ment vient me rejeter dans un douloureux accablement et 
que cette douce joie de voir votre ecriture, de lire vos 
conseils me fuit comme une vaine vision, alors, j'ai la 
fievre — je perds Fappetit et le sommeil — je deperis. 

Puis-je vous ecrire encore au mois de Mai prochain? 
j'aurai voulu attendre une annee — mais c'est impossible — 
c'est trop long, C. Bronte. 

I must say one word to you in English — I wish I could 
write to you more cheerful letters, for when I read this 
over, I find it to be somewhat gloomy — but forgive me my 
dear master — do not be irritated at my sadness — accord- 
ing to the words of the Bible: '' Out of the fulness of the 
heart, the mouth speaketh " and truly I find it difficult 
to be cheerful so long as I think I shall never see you more. 

99 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

You will perceive by the defects in this letter that I am 
forgetting the French language— yet I read all the French 
books I can get, and learn daily a portion by heart — but 
I have never heard French spoken but once since I left 
Brussels — and then it sounded like music in my ears — 
every word was most precious to me because it reminded 
me of you — I love French for your sake with all my 
heart and soul. 

Farewell my dear Master — may God protect you with 
special care and crown you with peculiar blessings. 

Novr, iSth, C. B. 

Ha WORTH, Bradford, Yorkshire.^ 

^Translation by M. H. Spielmann. 

Monsieur, — The six months of silence have run their course- 
It is now the i8th of Novr. ; my last letter was dated (I think) the 
1 8th of May. I may therefore write to you without failing in my 
promise. 

The summer and autumn seemed very long to me ; truth to tell, 
it has needed painful efforts on my part to bear hitherto the self- 
denial which I have imposed on myself. You, Monsieur, you 
cannot conceive what it means; but suppose for a moment that 
one of your children was separated from you, i6o leagues away, 
and that you had to remain six months without writing to him, 
without receiving news of him, without hearing him spoken of, 
without knowing aught of his health, then you would understand 
easily all the harshness of such an obligation. I tell you frankly 
that I have tried meanwhile to forget you, for the remembrance of 
a person whom one thinks never to see again and whom, neverthe- 
less, one greatly esteems, frets too much the mind; and when one 
has suffered that kind of anxiety for a year or two, one is ready to 
do anything to find peace once more. I have done everything; I 
have sought occupations; I have denied myself absolutely the 
pleasure of speaking about you — even to Emily; but I have been 
able to conquer neither my regrets nor my impatience. That, 
indeed, is humiliating — to be unable to control one's own thoughts, 
to be the slave of a regret, of a memory, the slave of a fixed and 
dominant idea which lords it over the mind. Why cannot I have 
just as much friendship for you, as you for me — neither more nor 
less? Then should I be so tranquil, so free — I could keep silence 
then for ten years without an effort. 

My father is well but his sight is almost gone. He can neither 
read nor write. Yet the doctors advise waiting a few months 
more before attempting an operation. The winter will be a long^ 
night for him. He rarely complams; I admire his patience. If 
Providence wills the same calamity for me, may He at least vouch- 
safe me as much patience with which to bear it! It seems to me. 
Monsieur, that there is nothing more galling in great physical mis- 
fortunes than to be compelled to make all those about us share in 

100 



The Pensionnat Heger^ Brussels 

Madame Heger did indeed hate Charlotte Bronte in 
her later years. This is not unnatural when we remem- 
ber how that unfortunate woman has been gibbeted for 
all time in the characters of Mile. Zoraide Renter and 
Madame Beck. But in justice to the creator of these 
scathing portraits, it may be mentioned that Charlotte 
Bronte took every precaution to prevent Villette from 
obtaining currency in the city whach inspired it. She 
told Miss Wheelwright, with whom naturally, on her 
visits to London, she often discussed the Brussels life, 
that she had received a promise that there should be no 

our sufferings. The iUs of the soul one can hide, but those which, 
attack the body and destroy the faculties cannot be concealed. 
My father allows me now to read to him and ^^^:ite for him ; he shows 
me, too, more confidence than he has ever shown before, and that 
is a great consolation. 

Monsieur, I have a favour to ask of you: when you reply to this 
letter, speak to me a Httle of yourself, not of me; for I know that if 
you speak of me it will be to scold me, and this time I would see 
your kindly side. Speak to me therefore of your children. Never 
was your brow severe when Louise and Claire and Prosper were 
by your side. Tell me also something of the School, of the pupils,. 
of the Governesses. Are Mesdemoiselles Blanche, Sophie and 
Justine still at Brussels? Tell me where you travelled during the 
holidays — did you go to the Rhine ? Did you not visit Cologne or 
Coblentz? Tell me, in short, mon maitre, what you will, but teli 
me something. To write to an ex-assistant-govemess (No! I 
refuse to remember my emplo>Tnent as assist ant- governess — I re* 
pudiate it) — anyhow, to write to an old pupil cannot be a very 
interesting occupation for you, I know; but for me it is hfe. Your 
last letter was stay and prop to me — nourishment to me for half a 
year. Now I need another and you will give it me; not because 
you bear me friendship — you cannot have much — but because you 
are compassionate of soul and you would condemn no one to pro- 
longed suffering to save yourself a few moments' trouble. To for- 
bid me to -wTite to you, to refuse to answer me would be to tear 
from me my only joy on earth, to deprive me of my last privilege — 
a privilege I never shall consent willingly to surrender. Beheve me, 
mon maitre, in writing to me it is a good deed that you will do. So 
long as I beheve you are pleased with me, so long as I have hope of 
receiving news from you, I can be at rest and not too sad. But 
when a prolonged and gloomy silence seems to threaten me with the 
estrangement of my master — when day by day I await a letter and 
when day by day disappointment comes to fling me back into over- 
whelming sorrow, and the sweet deUght of seeing your handwriting 
and reading your counsel escapes me as a vision that is vain, then 
fever claims me — I lose appetite and sleep — I pine away. 

May I write to you again next May? I would rather wait a 
year, but it is impossible — it is too long. C. Bronte. 

[Then follows the postscript in English, printed above.] 

lOI 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

translation, and that the book would never appear in the 
French language. One cannot therefore fix upon Char- 
lotte Bronte any responsibility for the circumstance that 
immediately after her death the novel appeared in the 
only tongue understood by Madame Heger. 

Charlotte had not visited the Wheelwrights in the Rue 
Royale during her first visit to Brussels. She had found 
the companionship of Emily all-sufficing, and Emily was 
not sufficiently popular with the Wheelwrights to have 
made her a welcome gueSt. They admitted her clever- 
ness, but they considered her hard, unsympathetic, and 
abrupt in manner. We know that she was self-contained 
and homesick, pining for her native moors. This was 
not evident to a girl of ten, the youngest of the Wheel- 
wright children, who was compelled to receive daily a 
music lesson from Emily in her play-hours. When, 
however, Charlotte came back to Brussels alone she was 
heartily welcomed into two or three EngUsh families, 
including those of Mr. Dixon, of the Rev. Mr. Jenkins, 
and of Dr. Wheelwright. With the Wheelwright chil- 
dren she sometimes spent the Sunday, and with them 
she occasionally visited the English Episcopal church 
which the Wheelwrights attended, and of which the 
clergyman was a Mr. Drury. When Dr. Wheelwright 
took his wife for a Rhine trip in May he left his four 
children — one little girl had died at Brussels, aged seven, 
in the preceding November — in the care of Madame 
Heger at the Pensionnat, and under the immediate 
supervision of Charlotte. 

At this period there was plenty of cheerfulness in her 
Hfe. She was learning German. She was giving English 
lessons to M. Heger and to his brother-in-law, M. Chap- 
pelle. She went to the Carnival, and described it as 
'' animating to see the immense crowds and the general 
gaiety.'* '' Whenever I turn back," she writes, " to 
compare what I am with what I was, my place here with 
my place at Mrs. Sidgwick's or Mrs. White's, I am 
thankful.*' 

In a letter to her brother, however, we find the darker 
side of the picture. It reveals many things apart from 
what is actually written down. In this, one of the few 
letters to Branwell that I have been able to discover, 
apart from one written in childhood, it appears that the 
brother and sister are upon very confidential terms. Up 
to this time, at any rate, Br an well's conduct had not 

I02 



The Pensionnat Heger, Brussels 

excited any apprehension as to his future, and the 
absence of any substantial place in his aunt's will was 
clearly not due to misconduct. Branwell was now 
under the same roof as his sister Anne, having obtained 
an appointment as tutor to young Edmund Robinson at 
Thorp Green, near York, where Anne was governess. 
The letter is unsigned, concluding playfully with *'yourn/' 
and the initials follow a closing message to Anne on the 
same sheet of paper. 

TO BRANWELL BRONTE 

Brussels^ May ist, 1843. 

Dear Branwell^ — I hear you have written a letter to 
me. This letter^ however^ as usual, I have never received, 
which I am exceedingly sorry for, as I have wished very 
much to hear from you. Are you sure that you put the 
right address and that you paid the English postage, 15-. 6d. ? 
Without that, letters are never forwarded. I heard from 
papa a day or two since. All appears to be going on 
reasonably well at home. I grieve only that Emily is so 
solitary; but, however, you and Anne will soon be return- 
ing for the holidays, which will cheer the house for a time. 
Are you in better health and spirits, and does Anne con- 
tinue to be pretty well? I understand papa has been to 
see you. Did he seem cheerful and well.^ Mind when 
you write to me you answer these questions, as I wish to 
know. Also give me a detailed account as to how you 
get on with your pupil and the rest of the family. I have 
received a general assurance that you do well and are in 
good odour, but I want to know particulars. 

As for me, I am very well and wag on as usual. I 
perceive, however, that I grow exceedingly misanthropic 
and sour. You will say that this is no news, and that 
you never knew me possessed of the contrary qualities — 
philanthropy and sugariness. Das ist wahr (which being 
translated means, that is true); but the fact is, the people 
here are no go whatsoever. Amongst 120 persons which 
compose the daily population of this house, I can discern 
only one or two who deserve anything like regard. This 
is not owing to foolish fastidiousness on my part, but to 

103 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

the absence of decent qualities on theirs. They have not 
intellect or politeness or good -nature or good -feeling. 
They are nothing. I don't hate them — hatred would be 
too warm a feeling. They have no sensations themselves 
and they excite none. But one wearies from day to day 
of caring nothing, fearing nothing, liking nothing, hating 
nothing, being nothing, doing nothing — yes, I teach and 
sometimes get red in the face with impatience at their 
stupidity. But don't think I ever scold or fly into a 
passion. If I spoke warmly, as warmly as I sometimes 
used to do at Roe-Head, they would think me mad. 
Nobody ever gets into a passion here. Such a thing is not 
known. The phlegm that thickens their blood is too 
gluey to boil. They are very false in their relations with 
each other, but they rarely quarrel, and friendship is a 
folly they are unacquainted with. The black Swan, 
M. Heger, is the only sole veritable exception to this rule 
(for Madame, always cool and always reasoning, is not 
quite an exception). But I rarely speak to Monsieur now, 
for not being a pupil I have little or nothing to do with 
him. From time to time he shows his kind-heartedness 
by loading me with books, so that I am still indebted to 
him for all the pleasure or amusement I have. Except 
for the total want of companionship I have nothing to 
complain of. I have not too much to do, sufficient liberty, 
and I am rarely interfered with. I lead an easeful, 
stagnant, silent life, for which, when I think of Mrs. 
Sidgwick, I ought to be very thankful. Be sure you write 
to me soon, and beg of Anne to inclose a small billet in 
the same letter; it will be a real charity to do me this 
kindness. Tell me everything you can think of. 

It is a curious metaphysical fact that always in the 
evening when I am in the great dormitory alone, having 
no other company than a number of beds with white 
curtains, I always recur as fanatically as ever to the old 
ideas, the old faces, and the old scenes in the world below. 
Give my love to Anne. — And believe me, yourn 
Dear Anne, — Write to me. — Your affectionate 
Schwester, C. B. 

104 



The Pensionnat Heger, Brussels 

M. Heger has just been in and given me a little German 
Testament as a present. I was surprised, for since a good 
many days he has hardly spoken to me. 

A little later she writes to Emily in similar strain. 

TO MISS EMILY J. BRONTE 

Brussels, May 2gth, 1843. 

Dear E. J._, — The reason of the unconscionable demand 
for money is explained in my letter to papa. Would you 
believe it, Mdlle. Miihl demands as much for one pupil 
as for two, namely, 10 francs per month. This, with the 
5 francs per month to the Blanchisseuse, makes havoc in 
£16 per annum. You will perceive I have begun again to 
take German lessons. Things wag on much as usual here. 
Only Mdlle. Blanche and Mdlle. Hausse are at present on 
a system of war without quarter. They hate each other 
like two cats. Mdlle. Blanche frightens Mdlle. Hausse 
by her white passions (for they quarrel venomously). 
Mdlle. Hausse complains that when Mdlle. Blanche is in 
fury, ** elle n'a pas de leuresr I find also that Mdlle. 
Sophie dislikes Mdlle. Blanche extremely. She says she is 
heartless, insincere, and vindictive, which epithets, I assure 
you, are richly deserved. Also I find she is the regular 
spy of Mme. Heger, to whom she reports everything. 
Also she invents — which I should not have thought. I 
have now the entire charge of the English lessons. I have 
given two lessons to the first class. Hortense Jannoy was 
a picture on these occasions, her face was black as a '' blue- 
piled thunder-loft," and her two ears were red as raw 
beef. To all questions asked her reply was, '' je ne sais 
pasT It is a pity but her friends could meet with a person 
qualified to cast out a devil. I am richly off for com- 
panionship in these parts. Of late days, M. and Mde. 
Heger rarely speak to me, and I really don't pretend to 
care a fig for anybody else in the establishment. You are 
not to suppose by that expression that I am under the 
influence of warm affection for Mde. Heger. I am con- 
vinced she does not Hke me — why, I can't tell, nor do I 

105 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

think she herself has any definite reason for the aversion; 
but for one thing, she cannot comprehend why I do not 
make intimate friends of Mesdames Blanche, Sophie, and 
Hausse. M. Heger is wonderously influenced by Madame, 
and I should not wonder if he disapproves very much of 
my unamiable want of sociability. He has already given 
me a brief lecture on universal bienveillance , and, per- 
ceiving that I don't improve in consequence, I fancy he 
has taken to considering me as a person to be let alone — 
left to the error of her ways; and consequently he has in 
a great measure withdrawn the light of his countenance, 
and I get on from day to day in a Robinson-Crusoe-like 
condition — very lonely. That does not signify. In other 
respects I have nothing substantial to complain of, nor is 
even this a cause for complaint. Except the loss of M. 
Heger's goodwill (if I have lost it) I care for none of 'em. 
I hope you are well and hearty. Walk out often on the 
moors. Sorry am I to hear that Hannah is gone, and that 
she has left you burdened with the charge of the little girl, 
her sister. I hope Tabby will continue to stay with you — 
give my love to her. Regards to the fighting gentry, and 
to old asthma. — Your C. B. 

I have written to Branwell, though I never got a letter 
from him. 

In August she is still more dissatisfied, but *' I will 
continue to stay some months longer, till I have acquired 
German, and then I hope to see all your faces again.*' 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Brussels, August 6th, 1843. 

Dear Ellen, — You never answered my last letter; but, 
however, forgiveness is a part of the Christian Creed, and 
so having an opportunity to send a letter to England, I 
forgive you and write to you again. Last Sunday after- 
noon, being at the Chapel Royal, in Brussels, I was 
surprised to hear a voice proceed from the pulpit which 
instantly brought all Birstall and Batley before my mind's 

106 



The Pensionnat Heger, Brussels 

eye. I could see nothing, but certainly thought that that 
unclerical little Welsh pony, Jenkins, was there. I buoyed 
up my mind with the expectation of receiving a letter from 
you, but as, however, I have got none, I suppose I must 
have been mistaken. C. B. 

Mr. Jenkins has called. He brought no letter from you, 
but said you were at Harrogate, and that they could not 
find the letter you had intended to send. He informed me 
of the death of your sister. Poor Sarah, when I last bid 
her good-bye I little thought I should never see her more. 
Certainly, however, she is happy where she is gone — far 
happier than she was here. When the first days of mourn- 
ing are past, you will see that you have reason rather to 
rejoice at her removal than to grieve for it. Your mother 
will have felt her death much — and you also. I fear from 
the circumstance of your being at Harrogate that you are 
yourself ill. Write to me soon. 

It was in September that the incident occurred which 
has found so dramatic a setting in Villette — the confes- 
sion to a priest of the Roman Catholic Church of a 
daughter of the most militant type of Protestantism; 
and not the least valuable of my Bronte treasures 
is the letter which Charlotte wrote to Emily giving an 
unembellished account of the incident. 



TO MISS EMILY J. BRONTE 

Bruxelles, September 2nd, 1843. 

Dear E. J., — Another opportunity of writing to you 
coming to pass, I shall improve it by scribbling a few lines. 
More than half the holidays are now past, and rather better 
than I expected. The weather has been exceedingly fine 
during the last fortnight, and yet not so Asiatically hot 
as it was last year at this time. Consequently I have 
tramped about a great deal and tried to get a clearer 
acquaintance with the streets of Bruxelles. This week, 
as no teacher is here except Mdlle. Blanche, who is re- 
turned from Paris, I am always alone except at meal-times, 
for Mdlle. Blanche's character is so false and so con- 
* 107 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

temptible I can't force myself to associate with her. She 
perceives my utter dishke and never now speaks to me — 
a great relief. 

However^ I should inevitably fall into the gulf of low 
spirits if I stayed always by myself here without a human 
being to speak to, so I go out and traverse the Boulevards 
and streets of Bruxelles sometimes for hours together. 
Yesterday I went on a pilgrimage to the cemetery, and far 
beyond it on to a hill where there was nothing but fields 
as far as the horizon. When I came back it was evening; 
but I had such a repugnance to return to the house, which 
contained nothing that I cared for, I still kept threading 
the streets in the neighbourhood of the Rue d'Isabelle 
and avoiding it. I found myself opposite to Ste. Gudule, 
and the bell, whose voice you know, began to toll for 
evening salut. I went in, quite alone (which procedure 
you will say is not much like me), wandered about the 
aisles where a few old women were saying their prayers, 
till vespers begun. I stayed till they were over. Still I 
could not leave the church or force myself to go home — 
to school I mean. An odd whim came into my head. In 
a solitary part of the Cathedral six or seven people still 
remained kneeling by the confessionals. In two con- 
fessionals I saw a priest. I felt as if I did not care what 
I did, provided it was not absolutely wrong, and that it 
served to vary my life and yield a moment's interest. I 
took a fancy to change myself into a Catholic and go and 
make a real confession to see what it was like. Knowing 
me as you do, you will think this odd, but when people are 
by themselves they have singular fancies. A penitent 
was occupied in confessing. They do not go into the sort 
•of pew or cloister which the priest occupies, but kneel 
down on the steps and confess through a grating. Both 
the confessor and the penitent whisper very low, you can 
hardly hear their voices. After I had watched two or 
three penitents go and return I approached at last and 
knelt down in a niche which was just vacated. I had to 
kneel there ten minutes waiting, for on the other side was 
another penitent invisible to me. At last that went away 

io8 



The Pensionnat Heger^ Brussels 

and a little wooden door inside the grating opened^ and I 
saw the priest leaning his ear towards me. I was obliged 
to begin, and yet I did not know a word of the formula 
with which they always commence their confessions. It 
was a funny position. I felt precisely as I did when alone 
on the Thames at midnight. I commenced with saying I 
was a foreigner and had been brought up a Protestant. 
The priest asked if I was a Protestant then. I somehow 
could not tell a he and said '' yes." He repUed that in 
that case I could not "joiitr die honheur de la confesse; " 
but I was determined to confess, and at last he said he 
would allow me because it might be the first step towards 
returning to the true church. I actually did confess — a 
real confession. When I had done he told me his address, 
and said that every morning I was to go to the rue du 
Pare — to his house — and he would reason with me and try 
to convince me of the error and enormity of being a 
Protestant! ! ! I promised faithfully to go. Of course, 
however, the adventure stops there, and I hope I shall 
never see the priest again. I think you had better not tell 
papa of this. He will not understand that it was only a 
freak, and will perhaps think I am going to turn Cathohc. 
Trusting that you and papa are well, and also Tabby and 
the Holyes, and hoping you will wTite to me immediately, 
— I am, yours, C. B. 

" The Holyes/' it is perhaps hardly necessary to add, 
is Charlotte's irreverent appellation for the curates — Mr. 
Smith and Mr. Grant. 



TO MISS EMILY J. BRONTE 

Brussels, December igih, 1843. 

Dear E. J., — I have taken my determination. I hope 
to be at home the day after New Year's Day. I have told 
Mme. Heger. But in order to come home I shall be 
obliged to draw on my cash for another £5. I have only 
£3 at present, and as there are several little things I should 
like to buy before I leave Brussels — which you know 

109 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

cannot be got as well in England — ^£3 would not suffice. 
Low spirits have afflicted me much lately, but I hope all 
will be well when I get home — above all, if I find papa 
and you and B. and A. well. I am not ill in body. It is 
only the mind which is a trifle shaken — for want of 
comfort. 

I shall try to cheer up now. — Good-bye. C. B. 



no 



CHAPTER V 

PATRICK BRANWELL BRONTE 

The younger Patrick Bronte was always known by his 
mother's family name of Branwell. The name derived 
from the patron Saint of Ireland was speedily banished 
from the Yorkshire Parsonage. Branwell was a year 
younger than Charlotte, and it is clear that she and her 
brother were " chums/* in the same way as Emily and 
Anne were " chums/' in the earlier years, before Char- 
lotte made other friends. Even until some five years 
from Branwell' s death, we find Charlotte writing to him 
with genuine sisterly affection, and, indeed, the only 
two family letters addressed to Branwell which are 
extant are from her. One of them, written from 
Brussels, I have printed elsewhere in this book. The 
other, written from Roe Head, when Charlotte, aged 
sixteen, was at school there, was partly published by 
Mrs. Gaskell, but may as well be given here, copied 
direct from the original. 

TO BRANWELL BRONTE 

Roe Head^ May lyth, 1832. 

Dear Branwell, — ^As usual I address my weekly letter 
to you, because to you I find the most to say. I feel 
exceedingly anxious to know how and in what state you 
arrived at home after your long and (I should think) very 
fatiguing journey. I could perceive when you arrived at 
Roe Head that you were very much tired, though you 
refused to acknowledge it. After you were gone, many 
questions and subjects of conversation recurred to me 
which I had intended to mention to you, but quite forgot 
them in the agitation which I felt at the totally un- 
-expected pleasure of seeing you. Lately I had begun to 
think that I had lost all the interest which I used formerly 
to take in politics, but the extreme pleasure I felt at the 

III 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

news of the Reform Bill's being thrown out by the House 
of Lords, and of the expulsion or resignation of Earl Grey, 
etc., etc., convinced me that I have not as yet lost all 
my penchant for politics. I am extremely glad that aunt 
has consented to take in Eraser's Magazine, for though I 
know from your description of its general contents it will 
be rather uninteresting when compared with Blackwood, 
still it will be better than remaining the whole year without 
being able to obtain a sight of any periodical publication 
whatever; and such would assuredly be our case, as in 
the little wild, moorland village where we reside, there 
would be no possibility of borrowing or obtaining a work 
of that description from a circulating library. I hope 
with you that the present delightful weather may con- 
tribute to the perfect restoration of our dear papa's health, 
and that it may give aunt pleasant reminiscences of the 
salubrious climate of her native place. 

With love to all, — Believe me, dear Branwell, to remain 
your affectionate sister, Charlotte. 

" As to you I find the most to say " is significant. And 
to Branwell, Charlotte refers again and aigain in most 
affectionate terms in many a later letter. It is to her 
enthusiasm, indeed, that we largely owe the extravagant 
estimate of Branwell' s ability which has found so abun- 
dant expression in books on the Brontes. 

Branwell has himself been made the hero of at least 
three biographies.^ Mr. Francis Grundy has no im- 
portance for our day other than that he prints certain 
letters from Branwell in his autobiography. Miss Mary 
F. Robinson, the admirable poet, now known as Madame 
Duclaux. is of significance because, appearing in a series 
of Eminent Women, it served to emphasise the growing 
opinion that Emily, as well as Charlotte, had a place 
among the great writers of her day. Miss Robinson, 
however, devoted inordinate space to the shortcomings 
of Branwell. 

Mr. Leyland's book is professedly a biography of 

^ Pictures of the Past, by Francis H. Grundy, C.E.: Grifi&th & 
Farran, 1879; Emily Bronte, by A. Mary F. Robinson: W. H. 
Allen, 1883; The Bronte Family, with Special Reference to Patrick 
Branwell Bronte, bv Francis A. Levland: Hurst & Blackett, 2 vols. 
1886. 

112 



Patrick Branwell Bronte 

Branwell, and is, indeed, a valuable storehouse of facts. 
It might have had more success had it been woitten with 
greater brightness and verve. As it stands, it is a dull 
book, readable only by the Bronte enthusiast. Mr. 
Leyland has no literary perception, and in his eagerness 
to show that Branwell was a genius, prints numerous 
letters and poems which sufficiently demonstrate that 
he was not. 

Charlotte never hesitated in the earlier years to praise 
her brother as the genius of the family. We all know 
how eagerly the girls in any home circle are ready to 
acknowledge and accept as signs of original power the 
most impudent witticisms of a fairly clever brother. 
The Bronte household was not exceptionally constituted 
in this respect. It is evident that the boy grew up with 
talent of a kind. He could certainly draw with more 
idea of perspective than his sisters, and one or two por- 
traits by him are not wanting in merit. But there is no 
evidence of any special writing facult^^ and the words 
" genius " and *' brilliant '' which have been freely 
applied to him are entirely misplaced. Branwell was 
thirty-one years of age when he died, and it was only 
during the last year or two of his life that opium and 
alcohol had made him intellectually hopeless. Yet, 
unless we accept the preposterous statement that he 
wrote Wuthering Heights, he would seem to have com- 
posed nothing which gives him the slightest claim to the 
most inconsiderable niche in the temple of literature. 

Branwell appears to have worked side by side with his 
sisters in the early years, and innumerable volumes of 
the *' little writing '' bearing his signature have come 
into my hands. Verdopolis, the imaginary city of his 
sisters' early stories, plays a considerable part in Bran- 
well's. Real Life in Verdopolis bears date 1833. The 
Battle of Washington is evidently a still more childish 
effusion. Caractacus is dated 1830, and the poems and 
tiny romances continue steadily on through the years 
until they finally stop short in 1837 — when Branwell is 
twenty years old — with a story entitled Percy. By the 
light of subsequent events it is interesting to note that 
a manuscript of 1830 bears the title of The Liar Detected. 

It would be unfair to take these crude productions of 
Branwell Bronte's boyhood as implying that he had no 
possibilities in him of anything better, but judging from 
the fact that his letters, as a man of eight and twenty, 

113 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

are as undistinguished as his sister's are noteworthy at 
a like age, we might well dismiss Branwell Bronte once 
and for all, were not some epitome of his life indispens- 
able in an account of the Bronte circle. 

Branwell was born at Thornton in 1817. When the 
family removed to Haworth he studied at the Grammar 
School, although, doubtless, he owed most of his earlier 
tuition to his father. When school days were over it 
was decided that he should be an artist. To a certain 
William Robinson, of Leeds, he was indebted for his 
first lessons. Mrs. Gaskell describes a life-size drawing 
of Charlotte, Emily, and Anne which Branwell painted 
about this period. The huge canvas stood for many 
years at the top of the staircase at the parsonage.^ In 
1835 Branwell went up to London with a view to be- 
coming a pupil at the Royal Academy Art Schools. The 
reason for his almost immediate reappearance at Haworth 
has never been explained. Probably he wasted his 
money and his father refused supplies. He had cer- 
tainly been sufficiently in earnest at the start, judging 
from this letter, of which I find a draft among his papers. 

TO THE SECRETARY. ROYAL ACADEMY OF ARTS 

'* Sir, — Having an earnest desire to enter as proba- 
tionary student in the Royal Academy, but not being 
possessed of information as to the means of obtaining my 
•desire, I presume to request from you, as Secretary to 
the Institution, an answer to the questions — 

*' Where am I to present my drawings ? 

** At what time? 

and especially, 

** Can I do it in August or September ? 
— Your obedient servant, Branwell Bronte." 

In 1836 we find him as '* brother " of the *' Lodge of 

^ There were two groups by Branwell. After Mr. Bronte's death 
Mr. Nicholls removed both to Ireland. Being of opinion that the 
only accurate portrait in one of them was that of Emily, he cut 
this out and destroyed the remainder. Both the " group " seen 
by Mrs. Gaskell and the Emily portrait were discovered in Ireland 
in 1 91 4 and purchased by the National Portrait Gallery. There 
are three or four so-called portraits of Emily in existence, but 
they are all repudiated by Mr. Nicholls as absolutely unlike her. 
The supposed portrait which appeared in The Woman at Home for 
July 1894 is now known to have been merely an illustration from a 
** Book of Beauty," and entirely spurious. 

114 



Patrick Branwell Bronte 

the Three Graces *' at Haworth. In the following year 
he is practising as an artist in Bradford, and painting a 
number of portraits of the townsfolk. At this same 
period he wrote to Wordsworth, sending verses, which 
he was at the time producing with due regularity. In 
January 1840 Branwell became tutor in the family of 
Mr. Postlethwaite at Broughton - in - Furness. It was 
from that place that he wrote the incoherent and silly 
letter which has been more than once printed, and which 
merely serves to show that then, as always, he had an 
ill-regulated mind. 

In October 1840, we find Branwell clerk-in-charge at 
the Station of Sowerby Bridge on the Leeds and Man- 
chester Railway, and the following year at Luddenden 
Foot, where Mr. Grundy, the railway engineer, became 
acquainted with him, and commenced the correspond- 
ence contained in Pictures of the Past. 

I have in my possession a small memorandum book, 
evidently used by Branwell when engaged as a railway 
clerk. There are notes in it upon the then existing 
railways, demonstrating that he was trying to prime 
himself with the requisite facts and statistics for a 
career of that kind. But side by side with these are 
verses upon '* Lord Nelson,'' ** Robert Bums,*' and 
kindred themes, with such estimable sentiments as 
this: — 

Then England's love and England's tongue 
And England's heart shall reverence long 
The wisdom deep, the courage strong, 
Of English Johnson's name. 

Altogether a literary atmosphere had been kindled for 
the boy had he had the slightest strength of character to 
go with it. The railway company, however, were soon 
tired of his vagaries, and in the beginning of 1842 he 
returns to the Haworth parsonage. The following 
letter to his friend Mr. Grundy is of biographical interest. 



TO FRANCIS H. GRUNDY 

October 2Zth, 1842. 

My dear Sir, — ^There is no misunderstanding. I have 
had a long attendance at the death-bed of the Rev. Mr. 
Weightman, one of my dearest friends, and now I am 

115 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

attending at the death-bed of my aunt, who has been for 
twenty years as my mother. I expect her to die in a few 
hours. 

As my sisters are far from home_, I have had much on 
my mind, and these things must serve as an apology for 
what was never intended as neglect of your friendship 
to us. 

I had meant not only to have written to you, but to the 
Rev. James Martineau, gratefully and sincerely acknow- 
ledging the receipt of his most kindly and truthful criti- 
cism — at least in advice, though too generous far in praise ; 
but one sad ceremony must, I fear, be gone through first. 
Give my most sincere respects to Mr. Stephenson, and 
excuse this scrawl — my eyes are too dim with sorrow to 
see well. — Believe me, your not very happy but obliged 
friend and servant, P. B. Bronte. 

A week later he writes to the same friend: — 

I am incoherent, I fear, but I have befen waking two 
nights witnessing such agonising suffering as I would not 
wish my worst enemy to endure ; and I have now lost the 
guide and director of all the happy days connected with 
my childhood. I have suffered much sorrow since I last 
saw you at Haworth. 

Charlotte and Emily, it will be remembered, were at 
this time on their way home from Brussels, and Anne 
had to seek relief from her governess bonds at Mrs. 
Robinson's. Bran well would seem to have returned 
with Anne to Thorp Green, as tutor to Mr. Robinson's 
son. He commenced his duties in January 1843. 

It would not be rash to assume — although it is only an 
assumption — that Branwell took to opium soon after he 
entered upon his duties at Thorp Green. I have already 
said something of the trouble which befell Mrs. Gaskell 
in accepting the statements of Charlotte Bronte, and — 
after Charlotte's death — of her friends, to the effect that 
Branwell became the prey of a designing woman, who 
promised to marry him when her husband — a venerable 
clergyman — should be dead. The story has been told 
too often. Branwell was dismissed, and returned to the 
parsonage to rave about his wrongs. If Mr. Robinson 

116 



Patrick Branwell Bronte 

should die, the widow had promised to marry him, he 
assured his friends. Mr. Robinson did die (May 26, 
1846), and then Branwell insisted that by his will he had 
prohibited his wife from marrying, under penalties of 
forfeiting the estate. A copy of the document is in my 
possession: 

The eleventh day of September 1846 the Will of the 
Reverend Edmund Robinson, late of Thorp Green, in the 
Parish of Little On sebum, in the County of York, Clerk, 
deceased, was proved in the Prerogative Court of York by 
the oaths of Lydia Robinson, Widow, his Relict ; the 
Venerable Charles Thorp and Henry Newton, the Execu- 
tors, to whom administration was granted. 

Needless to say, the will, a lengthy document, put no 
restraint whatever upon the actions of Mrs. Robinson. 
Upon the publication of Mrs. Gaskell's Life she was eager 
to clear her character in the law-courts, but was dis- 
suaded therefrom by friends, who pointed out that a 
withdrawal of the obnoxious paragraphs in succeeding 
editions of the Memoir, and the publication of a letter 
in the Times, would sufficiently meet the case. 

Here is the letter from the advertisement pages of the 
Times. 

8 Bedford Row^ 
London, May 26th ^ 1857. 

Dear Sirs, — As solicitor for and on behalf of the Rev. 
W. Gaskell and of Mrs. Gaskell, his wife, the latter of 
whom is authoress of the Life of Charlotte Bronte, I am 
instructed to retract every statement contained in that 
work which imputes to a widowed lady, referred to, but 
not named therein, any breach of her conjugal, of her 
maternal, or of her social duties, and more especially of 
the statement contained in chapter 13 of the first volume, 
and in chapter 2 of the second volume, which imputes to 
the lady in question a guilty intercourse with the late 
Branwell Bronte. All those statements were made upon 
information which at the time Mrs. Gaskell believed to 
be well founded, but which, upon investigation, with the 
additional evidence furnished to me by you, I have 
ascertained not to be trustworthy. I am therefore 
authorised not only to retract the statements in question, 

117 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

but to express the deep regret of Mrs. Gaskell that she 
should have been led to make them. — I am, dear sirs, 
yours truly, William Shaen. 

Messrs. Newton & Robinson, Solicitors, York. 

A certain ** Note '* in the Athencsum a few days later 
is not without interest now. 

We are sorry to be called upon to return to Mrs. Gaskell's 
Life of Charlotte Bronte, but we must do so, since the book 
has gone forth with our recommendation. Praise, it is 
needless to point out, implied trust in the biographer as 
an accurate collector of facts. This, we regret to state, 
Mrs. Gaskell proves not to have been. To the gossip 
which for weeks past has been seething and circulating 
in the London coteries, we gave small heed ; but the Times 
advertises a legal apology, made on behalf of Mrs. Gaskell, 
withdrawing the statements put forth in her book respect- 
ing the cause of Mr. Branwell Bronte's wreck and ruin. 
These Mrs. Gaskell's lawyer is now fain to confess his 
client advanced on insufficient testimony. The telling of 
an episodical and gratuitous tale so dismal as concerns 
the dead, so damaging to the living, could only be excused 
by the story of sin being severely, strictly true ; and every 
one will have cause to regret that due caution was not 
used to test representations not, it seems, to be justified. 
It is in the interest of Letters that biographers should be 
deterred from rushing into print with mere impressions 
in place of proofs, however eager and sincere those im- 
pressions may be. They may be slanders, and as such 
they may sting cruelly. Meanwhile the Life of Charlotte 
Bronte must undergo modification ere it can be further 
circulated. 

Meanwhile let us return to Branwell Bronte's life as 
it is contained in his sister's correspondence. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

fanuary yd, 1846. 
Dear Ellen, — I must write to you to-day whether I 
have anything to say or not, or else you will begin to think 

118 



Patrick Branwell Bronte 

that I have forgotten you; whereas, never a day passes, 
seldom an hour, that I do not think of you, and the scene 
of trial in which you live, move, and have your being. 
Mary Taylor's letter was deeply interesting and strongly 
characteristic. I have no news whatever to communicate. 
No changes take place here. Branwell offers no pr6spect 
of hope; he professes to be too ill to think of seeking for 
employment; he makes comfort scant at home. I hold 
to my intention of going to Brookroyd as soon as I can — 
that is, provided you will have me. 

Give my best love to your mother and sisters. — ^Yours, 
dear Nell, always faithful, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

January i^th, 1845. 

My dear Ellen, — I have often said and thought that 
you have had many and heavy trials to bear in your still 
short life. You have always borne them with great firm- 
ness and calm so far — I hope fervently you will still be 
enabled to do so. Yet there is something in your letter 
that makes me fear the present is the greatest trial of all, 
and the most severely felt by you. I hope it will soon 
pass over and leave no shadow behind it. I do earnestly 
desire to be with you, to talk to you, to give you what 
comfort I can. Branwell and Anne leave us on Saturday! 
Branwell has been quieter and less irritable on the whole 
this time than he was in summer. Anne is as usual — 
always good, mild, and patient. I think she too is a little 
stronger than she was. — Good-bye, dear Ellen, 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

December ^ist, 1845. 

Dear Ellen, — I don't know whether most to thank you 
for the very pretty slippers you have sent me or to scold 
you for occasioning yourself, in the slightest degree, 
trouble or expense on my account. I will have them made 

119 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

up and bring them with me, if all be well, when I come to 
Brookroyd. 

Never doubt that I shall come to Brookroyd as soon as I 
can, Nell. I dare say my wish to see you is equal to your 
wish to see me. 

I had a note on Saturday from Ellen Taylor, informing 
me that letters have been received from Mary in New 
Zealand, and that she was well and in good spirits. I 
suppose you have not yet seen them, as you do not men- 
tion them; but you will probably have them in your 
possession before you get this note. 

You say well in speaking of Branwell that no sufferings 
are so awful as those brought on by dissipation. Alas ! I 
see the truth of this observation daily proved. 

Your friends must have a weary and burdensome life 
of it in waiting upon their unhappy brother. It seems 
grievouS; indeed, that those who have not sinned should 
suffer so largely. 

Write to me a little oftener, Ellen — I am very glad to 
get your notes. Remember me kindly to your mother 
and sisters. — Yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS WOOLER 

January ^oih, 1846. 

My dear Miss Wooler, — I have not yet paid my usual 
visit to Brookroyd, but I frequently hear from Ellen, and 
she did not fail to tell me that you were gone into 
Worcestershire. She was unable, however, to give me 
your address; had I known it I should have written to 
you long since. 

I thought you would wonder how we were getting on 
when you heard of the Railway Panic, and you may be sure 
I am very glad to be able to answer your kind inquiries by 
an assurance that our small capital is as yet undiminished. 
The " York and Midland '' is, as you say, a very good line, 
yet I confess to you I should wish, for my part, to be wise 
in time. I cannot think that even the very best lines will 
continue for many years at their present premiums, and I 

120 



Patrick Branwell Bronte 

have been most anxious for us to sell our shares ere it be 
too late, and to secure the proceeds in some safer, if, for 
the present, less profitable investment. I cannot, how- 
ever, persuade my sisters to regard the affair precisely 
from my point of view, and I feel as if I would rather 
run the risk of loss than hurt Emily's feelings by acting 
in direct opposition to her opinion. She managed in a 
most handsome and able manner for me when I was at 
Brussels, and prevented by distance from looking after 
my own interests; therefore, I will let her manage still, 
and take the consequences. Disinterested and energetic 
she certainly is, and if she be not quite so tractable or 
open to conviction as I could wish, I must remember 
perfection is not the lot of humanity. And as long as 
we can regard those we love, and to whom we are closely 
allied, with profound and very unshaken esteem, it is a 
small thing that they should vex us occasionally by, what 
appear to us, unreasonable and headstrong notions. You, 
my dear Miss Wooler, know full as well as I do the value 
of sisters' affection to each other; there is nothing like it 
in this world, I believe, when they are nearly equal in age, 
and similar in education, tastes, and sentiments. 

You ask about Branwell. He never thinks of seeking 
emplo3Tnent, and I begin to fear he has rendered himself 
incapable of filling any respectable station in life; besides, 
if money were at his disposal he would use it only to his 
own injury; the faculty of self-government is, I fear, 
almost destroyed in him. You ask me if I do not think 
men are strange beings. I do, indeed — I have often 
thought so; and I think too that the mode of bringing 
them up is strange, they are not half sufficiently guarded 
from temptations. Girls are protected as if they were 
something very frail and silly indeed, while boys are 
turned loose on the world as if they, of all beings in 
existence, were the wisest and the least liable to be led 
astray. 

I am glad you like Bromsgrove. I always feel a peculiar 
satisfaction when I hear of your enjoying yourself, because 
it proves to me that there is really such a thing as 

121 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

retributive justice even in this life; now you are free, and 
that while you have still, I hope, many years of vigour and 
health in which you can enjoy freedom. Besides, I have 
another and very egotistical motive for being pleased: 
it seems that even *' a lone woman " can be happy, as well 
as cherished wives and proud mothers. I am glad of 
that — I speculate much on the existence of unmarried 
and never-to-be married woman now-a-days, and I have 
already got to the point of considering that there is no 
more respectable character on this earth than an un- 
married woman who makes her own way through life 
quietly, perseveringly, without support of husband or 
mother, and who, having attained the age of forty-five or 
upwards, retains in her possession a well-regulated mind, 
a disposition to enjoy simple pleasures, fortitude to 
support inevitable pains, sympathy with the sufferings of 
others, and willingness to relieve want as far as her means 
extend. I wish to send this letter off by to-day's post, 
I must therefore conclude in haste. — Believe me, my dear 
Miss Wooler, yours, most affectionately, 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

November 4th j 1845. 

Dear Ellen, — ^You do not reproach me in your last, 
but I fear you must have thought me unkind in being so 
long without answering you. The fact is, I had hoped to 
be able to ask you to come to Haworth. Branwell seemed 
to have a prospect of getting employment, and I waited to 
know the result of his efforts in order to say, " Dear Ellen, 
come and see us; " but the place (a secretaryship to a 
Railroad Committee) is given to another person. Bran- 
well still remains at home, and while he is here you shall 
not come. I am more confirmed in that resolution the 
more I know of him. I wish I could say one word to you 
in his favour, but I cannot, therefore I will hold my tongue. 

Emily and Anne wish me to tell you that they think it 
very unlikely for little Flossy to be expected to rear so 

122 



Patrick Branwell Bronte 

numerous a family; they think you are quite right in 
protesting against all the pups being preserved^ for^ if 
kept^ they will pull their poor little mother to pieces. — 
Yours faithfully, C. B. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April i^tJij 1846. 

Dear Ellen, — I assure you I was very glad indeed to 
get your last note; for when three or four days elapsed 
^fter my second despatch to you and I got no answer, I 
scarcely doubted something was wrong. It relieved me 
much to find my apprehensions unfounded. I return you 
Miss Ringrose's notes with thanks. I always like to read 
them, they appear to me so true an index of an amiable 
mind, and one not too conscious of its own worth; beware 
of awakening in her this consciousness by undue praise. 
It is the privilege of simple-hearted, sensible, but not 
brilliant people, that they can be and do good without 
comparing their own thoughts and actions too closely 
with those of other people, and thence drawing strong food 
for self - appreciation. Talented people almost always 
know full well the excellence that is in them. I wish I 
could say anything favourable, but how can we be more 
comfortable so long as Branwell stays at home, and de- 
generates instead of improving? It has been lately 
intimated to him, that he would be received again on the 
railroad where he was formerly stationed if he would 
behave more steadily, but he refuses to make an effort; 
he will not work; aiid at home he is a drain on every 
resource — an impediment to all happiness. But there is 
no use in complaining. 

My love to all. Write again soon. C. B. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

June lyth, 1846. 

Dear Ellen, — I was glad to perceive, by the tone of 
your last letter, that you are beginning to be a little more 

123 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

settled. We^ I am sorry to say^ have been somewhat 
more harassed than usual lately. The death of Mr. 
Robinson, which took place about three weeks or a month 
ago, served Branwell for a pretext to throw all about him 
into hubbub and confusion with his emotions, etc., etc. 
Shortly after came news from all hands that Mr. Robinson 
had altered his will before he died, and effectually pre- 
vented all chance of a marriage between his widow and 
Branwell, by stipulating that she should not have a 
shilling if she ever ventured to re-open any communica- 
tion with him. Of course he then became intolerable. To 
papa he allows rest neither day nor night, and he is con- 
tinually screwing money out of him, sometimes threaten- 
ing that he will kill himself if it is withheld from him. 
He says Mrs. Robinson is now insane; that her mind is a 
complete wreck owing to remorse for her conduct towards 
Mr. Robinson (whose end it appears was hastened by 
distress of mind) and grief for having lost him. I do not 
know how much to believe of what he says, but I fear 
she is very ill. Branwell declares that he neither can nor 
will do anything for himself. Good situations have been 
offered him more than once, for which, by a fortnight's 
work, he might have qualified himself, but he will do 
nothing, except drink and make us all wretched. I had 
a note from Ellen Taylor a week ago, in which she re- 
marks that letters were received from New Zealand a 
month since, and that all was well. I should like to hear 
from you again soon. I hope one day to see Brookroyd 
again, though I think it will not be yet — these are not 
times of amusement. Love to all. C. B. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, March 15/, 1847. 

Dear Ellen, — Branwell has been conducting himself 
very badly lately. I expect from the extravagance of his 
behaviour, and from mysterious hints he drops (for he 
never will speak out plainly), that we shall be hearing 
news of fresh debts contracted by him soon. The Misses 

124 



Patrick Branwell Bronte 

Robinson, who had entirely ceased their correspondence 
with Anne for half a year after their father^s death, have 
lately recommenced it. For a fortnight they sent her a 
letter almost every day, crammed with warm protestations 
of endless esteem and gratitude. They speak with great 
affection too of their mother, and never make any allusion 
intimating acquaintance with her errors. We take special 
care that Branwell does not know of their writing to Anne. 
My health is better: I lay the blame of its feebleness on 
the cold weather more than on an uneasy mind, for, after 
all, I have many things to be thankful for. Write again 
soon. C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May 12th, 1847. 

Dear Ellen, — We shall all be glad to see you on the 
Thursday or Friday of next week, whichever day will suit 
you best. About what time will you be likely to get here, 
and how will you come } By coach to Keighley, or by a 
gig all the way to Haworth? There must be no impedi- 
ments now? I cannot do with them, I want very much 
to see you. I hope you will be decently comfortable while 
you stay. 

Branwell is quieter now, and for a good reason: he has 
got to the end of a considerable sum of money, and con- 
sequently is obliged to restrict himself in some degree. 
You must expect to find him weaker in mind, and a 
complete rake in appearance. I have no apprehension of 
his being at all uncivil to you; on the contrary, he will 
be as smooth as oil. I pray for fine weather that we may 
be able to get out while you stay. Good-bye for the 
present. Prepare for much dulness and monotony. Give 
my love to all at Brookroyd. C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

July 2Sih, 1848. 

Dear Ellen, — Branwell is the same in conduct as ever. 
His constitution seems much shattered. Papa, and some- 

125 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

times all of us^ have sad nights with him: he sleeps most 
of the day, and consequently will lie awake at night. But 
has not every house its trial? 

Write to me very soon, dear Nell, and — Believe me, 
yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

Branwell Bronte died on Sunday, September the 24th, 
1848/ and the two following letters from Charlotte to 
her friend Mr. Williams are peculiarly interesting. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

October 2nd, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — " We have buried our dead out of our 
sight." A lull begins to succeed the gloomy tumult of last 
week. It is not permitted us to grieve for him who is gone 
as others grieve for those they lose. The removal of our 
only brother must necessarily be regarded b}^ us rather in 
the light of a mercy than a chastisement. Branwell was 
his father's and his sisters' pride and hope in boyhood, but 
since manhood the case has been otherwise. It has been 
our lot to see him take a wrong bent; to hope, expect, 
wait his return to the right path; to know the sickness of 
hope deferred, the dismay of prayer baffled ; to experience 
despair at last — and now to behold the sudden early 
obscure close of what might have been a noble career. 

I do not weep from a sense of bereavement — there is no 
prop withdrawn, no consolation torn away, no dear com- 
panion lost — but for the wreck of talent, the ruin of 
promise, the untimely dreary extinction of what might 
have been a burning and a shining light. My brother was 
a year my junior. I had aspirations and ambitions for 
him once, long ago — they have perished mournfully. 
Nothing remains of him but a memory of errors and 
sufferings. There is such a bitterness of pity for his life 
and death, such a yearning for the emptiness of his whole 

^ There are two portraits of Branwell in existence which were 
sold after Mr. Nicholls's death. One of them is a medallion by 
his friend Leyland, the other a silhouette. They both suggest, 
mainly on account of the clothing, a man of more mature years than 
Branwell actually attained to. 

126 



Patrick Branwell Bronte 

existence as I cannot describe. I trust time will allay 
these feelings. 

My poor father naturally thought more of his only son 
than of his daughters^ and, much and long as he had 
suffered on his account, he cried out for his loss like David 
for that of Absalom — my son ! my son ! — and refused at 
first to be comforted. And then when I ought to have 
been able to collect my strength and be at hand to support 
him, I fell ill with an illness whose approaches I had felt 
for some time previously, and of which the crisis was 
hastened by the awe and trouble of the death-scene — the 
first I had ever witnessed. The past has seemed to me 
a strange week. Thank God, for my father's sake, I am 
better now, though still feeble. I wish indeed I had more 
general physical strength — the want of it is sadly in my 
way. I cannot do what I would do for want of sustained 
animal spirits and efficient bodily vigour. 

My unhappy brother never knew what his sisters had 
done in literature — he was not aware that they had ever 
published a line. We could not tell him of our efforts for 
fear of causing him too deep a pang of remorse for his 
own time mis-spent, and talents misappHed. Now he will 
never know. I cannot dwell longer on the subject at 
present — it is too painful. 

I thank you for your kind sympathy, and pray earnestly 
that your sons may all do well, and that you may be spared 
the sufferings my father has gone through. — ^Yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Ha WORTH, October 6th, 1848. 

- My dear Sir, — I thank you for your last truly friendly 
letter, and for the number of Blackwood which accom- 
panied it. Both arrived at a time when a relapse of illness 
had depressed me much. Both did me good, especially 
the letter. I have only one fault to find with your ex- 
pressions of friendship: they make me ashamed, because 
they seem to imply that you think better of me than I 

127 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

merit. I believe you are prone to think too highly of 
your fellow-creatures in general — to see too exclusively 
the good points of those for whom you have a regard. 
Disappointment must be the inevitable result of this habit. 
Believe all men, and women too, to be dust and ashes — 
a spark of the divinity now and then kindling in the dull 
heap — that is all. When I looked on the noble face and 
forehead of my dead brother (nature had favoured him 
with a fairer outside, as well as a finer constitution, than 
his sisters) and asked myself what had made him go ever 
wrong, tend ever downwards, when he had so many gifts 
to induce to, and aid in, an upward course, I seemed 
to receive an oppressive revelation of the feebleness of 
humanity — of the inadequacy of even genius to lead to 
true greatness if unaided by religion and principle. In 
the value, or even the reality, of these two things he would 
never believe till within a few days of his end ; and then all 
at once he seemed to open his heart to a conviction of their 
existence and worth. The remembrance of this strange 
change now comforts my poor father greatly. I myself, 
with painful, mournful joy, heard him praying softly in his 
dying moments; and to the last prayer which my father 
offered up at his bedside he added, " Amen." How un- 
usual that word appeared from his lips, of course you, 
who did not know him, cannot conceive. Akin to this 
alteration was that in his feelings towards his relations — 
all the bitterness seemed gone. 

When the struggle was over, and a marble calm began to 
succeed the last dread agony, I felt, as I had never felt 
before, that there was peace and forgiveness for him in 
Heaven. All his errors — to speak plainly, all his vices — 
seemed nothing to me in that moment: every wrong he 
had done, every pain he had caused, vanished ; his suffer- 
ings only were remembered; the wrench to the natural 
affections only was left. If man can thus experience total 
oblivion of his fellow's imperfections, how much more can 
the Eternal Being, who made man, forgive His creature ? 

Had his sins been scarlet in their dye, I believe now 
they are white as wool. He is at rest, and that comforts 

128 



Patrick Branwell Bronte 

us all. Long before he quitted this world, life had no 
happiness for him. 

Blackwood^s mention of Jane Eyre gratified me much, 
and will gratify me more, I dare say, when the ferment 
of other feelings than that of literary ambition shall have 
a little subsided in my mind. 

The doctor has told me I must not expect too rapid a 
restoration to health; but to-day I certainly feel better. 
I am thankful to say my father has hitherto stood the 
storm well; and so have my dear sisters, to whose un- 
tiring care and kindness I am chiefly indebted for my 
present state of convalescence. — Believe me, my dear 
sir, yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

The last letter in order of date that I have concerning 
Branwell is addressed to Ellen Nussey's sister: — 

TO MISS MERCY NUSSEY 

Haworth, October 25ih, 1848. 

My dear Miss Nussey, — Accept my sincere thanks 
for your kind letter. The event to which you allude 
came upon us with startling suddenness, and was a severe 
shock to us all. My poor brother has long had a shaken 
constitution, and during the summer his appetite had 
been diminished, and he had seemed weaker, but neither 
we, nor himself, nor any medical man who was con- 
sulted on the case, thought it one of immediate danger. 
He was out of doors two days before death, and was only 
confined to bed one single day. 

I thank you for your kind sympathy. Many, under 
the circumstances, would think our loss rather a relief 
than otherwise; in truth, we must acknowledge, in all 
humility and gratitude, that God has greatly tempered 
judgment with mercy. But yet, as you doubtless know 
from experience, the last earthly separation cannot take 
place between near relatives without the keenest pangs on 
the part of the survivors. Every wrong and sin is forgotten 
then, pity and grief share the heart and the memory 
between them. Yet we are not without comfort in our 

129 E 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

affliction. A most propitious change marked the last few 
days of poor Bran well's life: his demeanour, his language, 
his sentiments were all singularly altered and softened. 
This change could not be owing to the fear of death, for 
till within half-an-hour of his decease he seemed uncon- 
scious of danger. In God's hands we leave him : He sees 
not as man sees. 

Papa, I am thankful to say, has borne the event pretty 
well. His distress was great at first — to lose an only 
son is no ordinary trial, but his physical strength has not 
hitherto failed him, and he has now in a great measure 
recovered his mental composure; my dear sisters are 
pretty well also. Unfortunately, illness attacked me at 
the crisis when strength was most needed. I bore up 
for a day or two, hoping to be better, but got worse. 
Fever, sickness, total loss of appetite, and internal pain 
were the symptoms. The doctor pronounced it to be 
bilious fever, but I think it must have been in a mitigated 
form; it yielded to medicine and care in a few days. I 
was only confined to my bed a week, and am, I trust, 
nearly well now. I felt it a grievous thing to be incapaci- 
tated from action and effort at a time when action and 
effort were most called for. The past month seems an 
overclouded period in my life. 

Give my best love to Mrs. Nussey and your sister, and 
Believe me, my dear Miss Nussey, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

My ufihappy brother never knew what his sisters had 
done in literature — he was not aware that they had ever 
published a line. 

Who that reads these words addressed to Mr. Williams 
can for a moment imagine that Charlotte is speaking 
other than the truth? And yet we have Mr. Grundy 
w^riting: 

Patrick Bronte declared to me that he wrote a great portion 
of " Wuihering Heights " himself. 

And Mr. George Searle Phillips,^ with more vivid imagin- 
ation, describes Branwell holding forth to his friends 

1 In the Mirror, 1872. Mr. Phillips, under the pseudonym of 
** January Searle,'* wrote a readable biography of Wordsworth. 

130 



Patrick Branwell Bronte 

in the parlour of the Black Bull at Haworth, upon the 
genius of his sisters, and upon the respective merits of 
Jane Eyre and other works. Mr. Ley land is even so 
foolish as to compare BranwelFs poetry with Emily's, 
to the advantage of the former — which makes further 
comment impossible. '' My unhappy brother never 
knew what his sisters had done in literature '' — these 
words of Charlotte's may be taken as final for all who 
had any doubts concerning the authorship of Wuthering 
Heights.'^ 

^ Since this was written a claim has been put forward by Mr. 
Malham Dembleby and by Mr. Lionel Cust that Charlotte Bronte 
was the author or part author of Wuthering Heights. The claim is 
even more absurd than that made on behalf of Branwell. 



131 



CHAPTER VI 



EMILY JANE BRONTE 



Emily Bronte is the sphinx of our modem Uterature. 
She came into being in the family of an obscure clergy- 
man, and she went out of it at thirty years of age 
without leaving behind her one single signr&cant record 
which was any key to her character or to her mode of 
thought, save only the one famous novel, Wutheving 
Heights, and a few poems — some three or four of which 
vjiW live in our poetic anthologies for ever. And she 
made no single friend other than her sister Anne. With 
Anne she must have corresponded during the two or 
three periods of her life when she was separated from 
that much loved sister; and we may be sure that the 
correspondence was of a singularly affectionate character. 
Charlotte, who never came very near to her in thought 
or sympathy, although she loved her younger sister so 
deeply, addressed her in one letter as *' mine own bonnie 
love '*; and it is certain that her own letters to her two 
sisters, and particularly to Anne, must have been 
peculiarly tender and in no way lacking in abundant 
self-revelation. When Emily and Anne had both gone 
to the grave, Charlotte, it is probable, carefully destroyed 
every scrap of their correspondence, and, indeed, of their 
literary effects; and thus it is that, apart from her books 
and literary fragments, we know Emily only by two 
formal letters to her sister's friend. Beyond these there 
is not one line of information as to Emily's outlook 
upon life. In infancy she went with Charlotte to 
Cowan Bridge, and was described by the governess as 
" a pretty little thing.'' In girlhood she went to Miss 
Wooler's school at Roe Head; but there, unlike Char- 
lotte, she made no friends. She and Anne were in- 
separable when at home, but of what they said to one 
another there is no record. The sisters must have 
differed in many ways. Anne, gentle and persuasive, 
grew up like Charlotte, devoted to the Christianity of 
her father and mother, and entirely in harmony with all 
the conditions of a parsonage. It is impossible to think 

132 



Emily Jane Bronte 

that the author of " The Old Stoic '* and '' Last Lines '' 
was equally attached to the creeds of the churches; but 
what Emily thought on religious subjects the world will 
never know. Mrs. Gaskell put to Miss Nussey this very 
question: '' What was Emily's religion? '* But Emily 
was the last person in the world to have spoken to the 
most friendly of visitors about so sacred a theme. For 
a short time, as we know, Emily was in a school at Law 
Hill near Halifax — a Miss Patchet's.^ She was, for a 
still longer period, at the Heger Pensionnat at Brussels. 
Mrs. Gaskeirs business was to write the life of Charlotte 
Bronte and not of her sister Emily ; and as a result there 
is little enough of Emily in Mrs. GaskelFs book — no 
record of the Halifax and Brussels life as seen through 
Emily's eyes. Time, however, has brought its revenge. 
The cult which started with Mr. S^^dney Dobell, and 
found poetic expression in Mr. Matthew Arnold's fine 
lines on her, 

Whose soul 
Knew no fellow for might, 
Passion, vehemence, grief, 
Daring, since Byron died,^ 

culminated in an enthusiastic eulog^'- by Mr. Swinburne, 
who placed her in the very forefront of Enghsh women 
of genius. 

We have said that Emily Bronte is a sphinx whose 
riddle no amount of research will enable us to read ; and 
this chapter, it may be admitted, adds but little to the 
longed-for knowledge of an interesting personahty. One 
scrap of Emily's hand^mting, of a personal character, 
has indeed come to me — overlooked, I doubt not, by 
Charlotte when she burnt her sister's efects. I have 
before me a little tin box about two inches long, which 
one day Mr. Nicholls turned out from the bottom of a 
desk. It is of a kind in which one might keep pins or 
beads, certainly of no value whatever apart from its 
associations. Within were four little pieces of paper 

^ Charlotte writes from Dewsbury Moor (October 2, 1837): — 
" My sister Emily is gone into a situation as teacher in a large 
school of near forty pupils, near Halifax. I have had one letter 
from her since her departure — it gives an appalling account of her 
duties. Hard labour from six in the morning until near eleven at 
night, with only one half-hour of exercise between. This is slavery. 
I fear she will never stand it." — Mrs. GaskeU's Life. 

* Haworth Churchyard, April 1855, by Matthew Arnold. Mac- 
miUan & Co. 

133 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

neatly folded to the size of a sixpence. These papers 
were covered with hand\\T:iting, t\vo of them by Emily, 
and two by Anne Bronte. They revealed a pleasant if 
eccentric arrangement on the part of the sisters, which 
appears to have been settled upon even after they had 
passed their twentieth year. They had agreed to write 
a kind of reminiscence every four years, to be opened by 
Emily on her birthday. The papers, however, tell their 
own story, and I give first the two which were wnntten 
in 1 841. Emily wnrites at Haworth, and Anne from 
her situation as governess to Mr. Robinson's children at 
Thorp Green. At this time, at any rate, Emily was 
fairly happy and in excellent health; and although it is 
five years from the publication of the volume of poems, 
she is full of literar\^ projects, as is also her sister Anne. 
The Gondaland Chronicles, to which reference is made, 
must remain a mystery for us. They were doubtless 
destroyed, \\'ith abundant other memorials of Emily, by 
the heart-broken sister who survived her. We have 
plentiful material in the way of childish effort by Char- 
lotte and hy Branwell, but there is hardly a scrap in the 
early hand^mting of Emily and Anne. This chapter 
would have been more interesting if only one possessed 
Solala Vernon's Life by Anne Bronte, or the Gondaland 
Chronicles by Emily! 

A PAPER to be opened 

when Anne is 

25 years old, 
or my next birthday after 

if 
all be well, 

Efuily fa?ie Bronte, fitly the soth, 1841. 

It is Friday evening, near 9 o'clock — wild rainy weather, 
I am seated in the dining-roo7n, having just co7i eluded tidy- 
ing our desk boxes, writing this document. Papa is in the 
parlour — aunt upstairs in her room. She has been reading 
Blackwood's Magazine to papa. Victoria and Adelaide 
are ensconced in the peat-house. Keeper is i7i the kitchen — 
Hero in his cage. We are all stout and hearty, as I hope is 

134 



Emily Jane Bronte 

the case with Charlotte, Branwell, and Anne, of whom the 
Jirst is at John White, Esq., Uppenaood House, Rawdon ; 
the second is at Luddenden Foot ; and the third is, I believe, 
at Scarborough, enditing perhaps a paper corresponding to 
this. 

A scheme is at present in agitation for setting us up in a 
school of our own ; as yet 7iothing is determined, but I hope 
and trust it may go on and prosper and answer our highest 
expectations. This day four years I wonder whether we 
shall still be dragging on in our present condition or estab- 
lished to our hearts^ content. Time will show. 

I guess that at the time appointed for the opening of this 
paper, we, i.e. Charlotte, Anne, and I, shall be all merrily 
seated in our own sitting-room in some pleasant andfourish- 
ing seminary, having just gathered in for the midsummer 
ladyday. Our debts will be paid off, and we shall have cash 
in hand to a considerable amount. Papa, aunt, and Bra?i- 
well will either have been or be coming to visit us. It will be 
a fine warm summer evening, very different from this bleak 
look-out, and Anne and I will perchance slip out into the 
garden for a few minutes to peruse our papers. I hope 
either this or something better will be the case. 

The Gondaliand are at present in a threatening state, but 
there is no open rupture as yet. All the princes and prin- 
cesses of the Royalty are at the Palace of Instruction. I have 
a good many books on hand, but I am sorry to say that as 
usual I make small progress with any. However, I have 
just made a new regularity paper ! and I must verb sap to 
do great things. And now I close, sendingfromfar an exhorta- 
tio7i of courage, boys ! courage, to exiled and harassed Anne, 
wishing she was here. 

Anne, as I have said, -s^iites from Thorp Green. 

July the 2,0th, A.D. 1841. 

This is Emily^s birthday. She has now co7npleted her 
2yd year, and is, I believe, at home. Charlotte is a governess 
in the family of Mr. White. Branwell is a clerk in the rail- 
road station at Luddenden Foot, and I aiJi a governess in the 

135 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Jatntly of Mr, Rohi7ison, I dislike the situation and wish 

to change it for another, I am noiv at Scarborough. My 

pupils are gone to bed aiid I ayn hastening to finish this 

before 1 follow them. 

We are thinking of setting up a school of our own^ but 

nothing definite is settled about it yet, and we do not know 

whether we shall be able to or not, I hope we shall. And I 

wonder what will be our condition and how or where we shall 

all be on this day four years hence ; at which time, if all be 

well, I shall be 25 years and 6 months old, Emily will be 2'j 

years old, Bra?twell 28 years and 1 month, and Charlotte 

29 years and a quarter. We are now all separate and not 

likely to 7neet again for many a weary week, but we are none 

of us ill that I know of and all are doing something for our 

own livelihood except Emily, who, however, is as busy as any 

of us, and in reality earns her food and raiment as much as 

we do. 

How little know we what we are 
How less what we may be ! 

Four years ago I was at school. Since then I have been a 
governess at Blake Hall, left it, come to Thorp Green, and 
seen the sea and York Minster, Emily has been a teacher 
at Miss Patchefs school, and left it, Charlotte has left Miss 
Wooler's, been a governess at Mrs, Sidgwick's, left her, and 
gone to Mrs, Whitens, Branwell has given up painting, 
been a tutor in Cumberla7id, left it, and become a clerk on the 
railroad. Tabby has left us, Martha Brown has come in 
her place. We have got Keeper, got a sweet little cat and 
lost it, and also got a hawk. Got a wild goose which has 
flown away, and three tame ones, one of which has been killed. 
All these diversities, with many others, are things ive did not 
expect or foresee in the fuly of 1837. What will the next 
four years bring forth 2 Providence only knows. But we 
ourselves have sustained very little alteration since that time. 
1 have the same faults that 1 had then, only 1 horoe more 
wisdom and experience, and a little more self-possession 
than I then enjoyed. How will it be when we open this 
paper and the one Emily has written 2 I wonder whether 
the Gondaland will still be flourishing, and what will be 

136 



Emily Jane Bronte 

their cofidttio^i. I ayn now engaged in writing the fourth 
volume oj Solala Vernon's Life. 

For some time I have looked upon 2^ as a sort of era in 
my existence. It may prove a true presentiment , or it may 
be only a superstitious fancy ; the latter seems most likely, 
but time will showt Anne Bronte, 

Let us next take up the other two little scraps of 
paper. They are dated July the 30th, 1S45, or Emily's 
t^venty-seventh birthday. Many things have happened, 
as she says. She has been to Brussels, and she has 
settled definitel}^ at home again. They are still keenly 
interested in literature, and we still hear of the Gondals. 
There is wonderfully little difference in the tone or spirit 
of the journals. The concluding " best wishes for this 
whole house till July the 30th, 1848, and as much longer 
as may be,** contain no premonition of coming disaster. 
Yet ]uly 1848 was to find Branwell Bronte on the verge 
of the grave, and Emily in Lll-health. She died on the 
19th of December of that year. 

Haworth, Thursday, fuly ^oth, 1845, 

My birthday — showery, breezy, cool. I am twenty-seven 
years old to-day. This morning Anne and I opened the 
papers we wrote four years since, on my twenty-third birth- 
day. This paper we intend, if all be well, to open on my 
thirtieth — three years hence, in 1848. Since the 1841 paper 
the following events have taken place. Our school scheme 
has bee>i abandoned, and instead Charlotte and 1 went to 
Brussels on the Sth of February 1842. 

Branwell left his place at Luddenden Foot, C, and I 
returned from Brussels, November Sth, 1842, in consequence 
of aunt's death. 

Branwell went to Thorp Green as a tutor, where Anne 
still continued, fanuary 1843. 

Charlotte returned to Brussels the sa?ne month, and, after 
staying a year, came back again on New Year's Day 1844. 

Anne left her situation at Thorp Green of her own account, 
fune 1845. 

Anne and I went our first long journey by ourselves 
together, leaving home on the 30/A of fune, Monday, sleeping 

^37 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

at York, returning to Keighley Tuesday evening, sleeping 
there and walking home on Wednesday morning. Though 
the weather was broken we enjoyed ourselves very muchy 
except during a few hours at Bradford, And during our 
excursion we were, Ronald Macalgin, Henry Angora, fuliet 
Angusteena, Rosabella Esmaldan, Ella and fulian Egre- 
mont, Catharine Navarre, and Cordelia Fitzaphnold, escap- 
ing from the palaces of instruction to join the Royalists who 
are hard driven at present by the victorious Republicans, 
The Gondals still flourish bright as ever, I am at present 
writing a work on the First War, Anne has been writing 
some articles on this, and a book by Henry Sophona, We 
intend sticking firm by the rascals as long as they delight us, 
which I am glad to say they do at present, I should have 
mentioned that last summer the school scheme was revived in 
full vigour. We had prospectuses printed, despatched letters 
to all acquaintances imparting our plans, and did our little 
all ; but it was found no go. Now I don't desire a school 
at all, and none of us have any great longing for it. Vie 
have cash enough for our present wants, with a prospect of 
accumulation. We are all in decent health, only that papa 
has a complaint in his eyes, and with the exception of B,, 
who, I hope, will be better and do better hereafter, I am 
quite contented for myself : not as idle as formerly, alto- 
gether as hearty, and having learnt to make the most of the 
present and long for the future with the fidgetiness that I 
cannot do all I wish ; seldom or ever troubled with nothing 
to do, and merely desiring that everybody could be as com- 
fortable as myself and as undesponding, and then we should 
have a very tolerable world of it. 

By mistake 1 find we have opened the paper on the 315^ 
instead of the 2,0th, Yesterday was much such a day as 
this, but the morning was divine. 

Tabby, who was gone in our last paper, is come back, and 
has lived with us two years and a half, and is in good healths 
Martha, who also departed, is here too. We have got Flossy ; 
got and lost Tiger; lost the hawk Hero, which, with the 
geese, was given away, and is doubtless dead, for when I 
came back from Brussels I inquired on all hands and could 

138 



Emily jane Bronte 

hear nothing of Jiim. Tiger died early last year. Keeper 
afid Flossy are well, also the canary acquired four years 
since. We are now all at home, and likely to he there some 
ii?ne. Branwell went to Liverpool on Tuesday to stay a 
week. Tabby has just been teasing me to turn as forrjierly 
to '' Pillopiitate,'" Anne and I should have picked the black 
currants if it had been fine and sunshiny. I must hurry 
off now to my turning and ironing. I have plenty of work 
on hands, and writing, and am altogether full of business. 
With best wishes for the whole Jwuse till 1848^ fuly s^th. 
and as much longer as may be, — / conclude. 

Emily Brante. 

Finally, I give Anne's last fragment, concerning which 
silence is essential. Interpretation of most of the 
references would be mere guess-work. 

Thursday, fuly the ^ist, 1S45. Yesterday was Emily^s 
birthday, and the time when we should have opened our 1845 
paper, but by mistake we opened it to-day instead. How 
many things have happened since it was writtefi — som€ 
pleasant, some far otherwise. Yet I was then at Thorp 
Green, and now I am only just escaped from it. I was 
wishing to leave it then, afid if I had known that I had four 
years longer to stay how wretched I should have been ; but 
during my stay I have had some very unpleasant and un- 
dreamt-of experience of human nature. Others have seen 
more changes. Charlotte has left Mr. White's and been 
twice to Brussels, where she stayed each time nearly a year. 
Emily has been there too, and stayed nearly a year. Bran- 
well has left Luddenden Foot, and been a tutor at TJwrp 
Green, and had much tribulation and ill health. He was 
very ill on Thursday, but he went with fohn Brown to Liver- 
pool, where he nmi) is, I suppose ; and we hope he will be 
better and do better in future. This is a dismal, cloudy, wet 
evening. We have had so far a very cold wet summer. 
Charlotte has lately been to Hathersage, in Derbyshire, on a 
visit of three weeks to Ellen Xussey. She is now sitting 
sewing in the dining-room. Emily is ironing upstairs, I 
am sitting in the dining-room in the rocking-chair before the 

139 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

are with my feet on the fender. Papa is in the parlour. 
Tabby and Martha are, I think, in the kitchen. Keeper 
and Flossy are, I do not know where. Little Dick is hopping 
in his cage. When the last paper was written we were think- 
ing of setting up a school. The scheme has been dropt, and 
long after taken up again and dropt again because we could 
not get pupils. Charlotte is thinking about getting another 
situation. She wishes to go to Paris. Will she go ? She 
has let Flossy in, by-the-by, and he is now lying on the sofa. 
Emily is engaged in writing the Emperor fulius^s life. She 
has read some of it, and I want very much to hear the rest. 
She is writing some poetry, too. I wonder what it is about ? 
I have begun the third volume of Passages in the Life of an 
Individual. I wish I had finished it. This afternoon 1 
began to set about making my grey silk frock that was dyed 
at Keighley. What sort of a hand shall I make of it ? E. 
and I have a great deal of work to do. When shall we 
sensibly diminish it ? I want to get a habit of early rising. 
Shall I succeed ? We have not yet finished our Gondal 
Chronicles that we began three years and a half ago. When 
will they be done ? The Gondals are at present in a sad 
state. The Republicans are uppermost, but the Royalists 
are not quite overcome. The young sovereigns, with their 
brothers and sisters, are still at the Palace of htstruction. 
The Unique Society, above half a year ago, were wrecked 
on a desert island as they were returning from Gaul. They 
are still there, but we have not played at them much yet^ 
The Gondals in general are not i^t first-rate playing condi- 
tion. Will they improve ? I wonder how we shall all be 
and where and how situated on the thirtieth of fuly 1848, 
when, if we are all alive, Emily will be just 30. / shall 
be in my 2gth year, Charlotte in her syd, and Branwell in 
his 7,2nd ; and what changes shall we have seen and known ; 
and shall we be much changed ourselves 2 I hope not, for 
the worse at least. Ifor my part cannot well be flatter or older 
in mind than I am now. Hoping for the best, I conclude. 

Anne Bronte. 

Exactly fifty years were to elapse before these pieces of 
writing saw the light. The interest which must always 

140 



Emily Jane Bronte 

centre in Emily Bronte gives attraction to a fragment in 
facsimile in my possession which is of greater moment 
on account of the rough drawing which Emily has made 
of herself and of her dog. Emily's taste for draw- 
ing is a pathetic element in her always pathetic life. I 
have seen a number of her sketches. There is one 
in my own possession of Keeper and Flossy, the 
former the bull-dog which followed her to the grave, 
the latter a little King Charlie which one of the Miss 
Robinsons gave to Anne. The sketch, however, like 
most of Emily's drawings, is technically full of errors. 
She was not a born artist, and possibly she had not the 
best opportunities of becoming one by hard work. 
Another drawing before me is of the hawk mentioned 
in the above fragment; and yet another is of the dog 
Growler, a predecessor of Keeper, which is not, however, 
mentioned in the correspondence. Upon Emily Bronte, 
the poet, I do not propose to write here. She left behind 
her, and Charlotte preserved, a manuscript volume con- 
taining the whole of the poems in the two collections 
of her verse, and there were other poems published since. 
There are, indeed, a few fragments, all written in that 
tiny handwriting which the girls affected, and bearing 
various dates from 1833 to 1840. A new edition of 
Emily's poems should, by virtue of these verses, have a 
singular interest for her admirers. ^ With all her gifts 
as a poet, however, it is by Wuthering Heights that Emily 
Bronte is best known to the world; and the weirdness 
and force of that book suggest an inquiry concerning 
the influences which produced it. Dr. Wright, in his 
entertaining book. The Brontes in Ireland, recounts the 
story of Patrick Bronte's origin, and insists that it was 
in listening to her father's anecdotes of his own Irish 
experiences that Emily obtained the weird material of 
Wuthering Heights. It is not, of course, enough to point 
out that Dr. Wright's story of the Irish Brontes is full of 
contradictions. A number of tales picked up at random 
from an illiterate peasantry might very well abound in 
inconsistencies, and yet contain some measure of truth. 
But nothing in Dr. Wright's narrative is confirmed, save 
only the fact that Patrick Bronte continued throughout 
his life in some slight measure of correspondence with 

1 See Emily Bronte's Collected Works, edited by William 
Robertson Nicoll and Clement Shorter, 2 vols. Hodder & Stoughton. 
1910. 

141 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

his brothers and sisters — a fact rendered sufficiently 
evident by a perusal of his will. Dr. Wright tells of 
many visits to Ireland in order to trace the Bronte 
traditions to their source; and yet he had not — in his 
first edition — marked the elementary fact that the 
registry of births in County Dowti records the existence 
of innumerable Bruntys and of not a single Bronte. Dr. 
Wright probably made his inquiries with the stories of 
EmHy and Charlotte well in mind. He sought for 
similar traditions, and the quick-witted Irish peasantry 
gave him all that he wanted. They served up and 
embeUished the current traditions of the neighbourhood 
for his benefit, as the peasantry do everywhere for folk- 
lore enthusiasts. Charlotte Bronte's uncle Hugh, we 
are told, read the Qiiartevly Review article upon Jane 
Eyre, and, armed with a shillelagh, came to England, in 
order to wreak vengeance upon the writer of the bitter 
attack. He landed at Liverpool, walked from Liverpool 
to Haworth, saw his nieces, who " gathered round him," 
and listened to his account of his mission. He then 
went to London and made abundant inquiries — but why 
pursue this ludicrous story further ? In the first place, 
the Quarterly Review article was published in December 
1848 — after Emily was dead, and while Anne was dying. 
Very soon after the review appeared Charlotte was in- 
formed of its authorship, and references to Miss Rigby 
and the Quarterly are found more than once in her corre- 
spondence with Mr. Williams. 

This is a lengthy digression from the story of Emily's 
life, but it is of moment to discover whether there is any 
evidence of influences other than those which her York- 
shire home afforded. I have discussed the matter with 
Miss Ellen Nussey, and with Mr. Nicholls. Miss Xussey 
never, in all her visits to Haworth, heard a single refer- 
ence to the Irish legends related by Dr. Wright, and 
firmly believes them to be mythical. Mr. Nicholls, 
during the six years that he lived alone at the parsonage 
wdth his father-in-law, never heard one single word from 
Mr. Bronte — who was by no means disposed to reticence 
— about these stories, and is also of opinion that they are 
purely legendary. 

It has been suggested that Emily would have been 
guilty almost of a crime to have based the more sordid 
part of her narrative upon her brother's transgressions. 
This is sheer nonsense. She wrote Wuthertng Heights 

142 



Emily Jane Bronte 

because she was impelled thereto, and the book, with 
all its morbid force and fire, will remain, for all time, as a 
monument of the most striking genius that nineteenth 
century womanhood has given us. It was partly her 
life in Yorkshire — the local colour was mainly derived 
from her brief experience as a governess at Halifax — 
but it was partly, also, the German fiction which she 
had devoured during the Brussels period, that inspired 
Wuthering Heights. 

Here, however, are glimpses of Emily Bronte on a 
more human side. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

March 2^th, 1844. 

Dear Nell, — I got home safely, and was not too much 
tired on arriving at Haworth. I feel rather better to-day 
than I have been, and in time I hope to regain more 
strength. I found Emily and Papa well, and a letter from 
Branwell intimating that he and Anne are pretty well 
too. Emily is much obliged to you for the flower seeds. 
She wishes to know if the Sicilian pea and crimson corn- 
flower are hardy flowers, or if they are delicate, and should 
be sown in warm and sheltered situations.'^ Tell me also 
if you went to Mrs. John Swain's on Friday, and if you 
enjoyed yourself; talk to me, in short, as you would do 
if we were together. Good-morning, dear Nell; I shall 
say no more to you at present. C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April ^thj 1844. 

Dear Nell, — We were all very glad to get your letter 
this morning. We, I say, as both Papa and Emily were 
anxious to hear of the safe arrival of yourself and the little 
varmint} As you conjecture, Emily and I set-to to shirt- 
making the very day after you left, and we have stuck to 
it pretty closely ever since. We miss your society at 
least as much as you miss ours, depend upon it; would 
* A dog, referred to elsewhere as Flossie, junior. 

143 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

that you were within calling distance. Be sure you wTite 
to me. I shall expect another letter on Thursday — don't 
disappoint me. Best regards to your mother and sisters. 
— Yours, somewhat irritated, C. Bronte. 

Earlier than this Emily had herself addressed a letter 
to Miss Nussey, and, indeed, the two letters from Emilv 
Bronte to Ellen Nussey which I print here are, I imagine, 
the only letters of Emily's in existence. Mr. NichoUs 
informs me that he has never seen a letter in Emily's 
handwriting. The following letter is written during 
Charlotte's second stay in Brussels, and at a time when 
Ellen Nussey contemplated joining her there — a project 
never carried out. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May i2j 1843. 

Dear Miss Nussey, — I should be wanting in common 
civility if I did not thank you for your kindness in letting 
me know of an opportunity to send postage free. 

I have written as you directed, though if next Tuesday 
means to-morrow 1 fear it will be too late. Charlotte has 
never mentioned a word about coming home. If you 
would go over for half-a-year, perhaps you might be able 
to bring her back with you — otherwise, she might vegetate 
there till the age of Methuselah for mere lack of courage 
to face the voyage. 

All here are in good health; so was Anne according to 
her last account. The holidays will be here in a week or 
two, and then, if she be willing, I will get her to write you 
a proper letter, a feat that I have never performed. — VVith 
love and good wishes, Emily J. Bronte. 

The next letter is written at the time that Charlotte is 
staying with her friend. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, February gih, 1846. 

Dear Miss Nussey, — I fancy this note will be too late 
to decide one way or other with respect to Charlotte's stay. 

144 



Emily Jane Bronte 

Yours only came this morning (Wednesday), and unless 
mine travels faster you will not receive it till Friday. 
Papa, of course, misses Charlotte, and will be glad to have 
her back. Anne and I ditto; but as she goes from home 
so seldom, you may keep her a day or two longer, if your 
eloquence is equal to the task of persuading her — that is, 
if she still be with you when you get this permission. 
Love from Anne. — Yours truly, Emily J. Bronte. 

Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey, ** by Ellis and 
Acton Bell," were published together in three volumes 
in 1847. The former novel occupied two volumes, and 
the latter one. By a strange freak of publishing, the 
book was issued as Wuthering Heights, vol. i. and 11., 
and Agnes Grey, vol. iii., in deference, it must be sup- 
posed, to the passion for the three volume novel. Char- 
lotte refers to the publication in the next letter, which 
contained as inclosure the second preface to Jane Eyre 
— the preface actually published ^ An earlier preface, 
entitled " A Word to the Quarterly,*' was cancelled. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

December 21st, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — I am, for my own part, dissatisfied with the 
preface I sent — I fear it savours of flippancy. If you see 
no objection I should prefer substituting the inclosed. It 
is rather more lengthy, but it expresses something I have 
long wished to express. 

Mr. Smith is kind indeed to think of sending me The 
Jar oj Honey. When I receive the book I will write to 
him. I cannot thank you sufficiently for your letters, and 
I can give you but a faint idea of the pleasure they afford 
me; they seem to introduce such light and life to the 
torpid retirement where we Hve like dormice. But, under- 
stand this distinctly, you must never write to me except 
when you have both leisure and inclination. 1 know your 
time is too fully occupied and too valuable to be often at 
the service of any one individual. 

* It was sent to Mr. Williams on six half-sheets of note-paper and 
was preserved by him. 

145 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

You are not far wrong in your judgment respecting 
Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey, Ellis has a strong, 
original mind, full of strange though sombre power. When 
he writes poetry that power speaks in language at once 
condensed, elaborated, and refined, but in prose it breaks 
forth in scenes which shock more than they attract. Ellis 
will improve, however, because he knows his defects. 
Agnes Grey is the mirror of the mind of the writer. The 
orthography and punctuation of the books are mortifying 
to a degree: almost all the errors that were corrected in 
the proof-sheets appear intact in what should have been 
the fair copies. If Mr. Newby always does business in 
this way, few authors would like to have him for their 
publisher a second time. — Believe me, dear sir, yours 
respectfully, C. Bell. 

When Jane Eyre was performed at a London theatre 
— and it has been more than once adapted for the stage, 
and performed many hundreds of times in England and 
America — Charlotte Bronte wrote to her friend Mr. 
Williams as follows: — 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

February ^th, 1848. 

Dear Sir, — A representation of Jane Eyre at a minor 
theatre would no doubt be a rather afflicting spectacle 
to the author of that work. I suppose all would be wofuUy 
exaggerated and painfully vulgarised by the actors and 
actresses on such a stage. What, I cannot help asking 
myself, would they make of Mr. Rochester? And the 
picture my fancy conjures up by way of reply is a some- 
what humiliating one. What would they make of Jane 
Eyre ? I see something very pert and very affected as an 
answer to that query. 

Still, were it in my power, I should certainly make a 
point of being myself a witness of the exhibition. Could 
I go quietly and alone, I undoubtedly should go; I should 
endeavour to endure both rant and whine, strut and 

146 



Emily ]^^^ Bronte 

grimace^ for the sake of the useful observations to be 
collected in such a scene. 

As to whether I wish you to go, that is another question. 
I am afraid I have hardly fortitude enough really to wish it. 
One can endure being disgusted with one's own work^ but 
that a friend should share the repugnance is unpleasant. 
Still, I know it would interest me to hear both your 
account of the exhibition and any ideas which the effect 
of the various parts on the spectators might suggest to you. 
In shorty I should like to know w^hat you would think^ and 
to hear what you would say on the subject. But you 
must not go merely to satisfy my curiosity; you must do 
as you think proper. Whatever you decide on will con- 
tent me : if you do not go, you will be spared a \ailgarising 
impression of the book ; if you do go, I shall perhaps gain 
a little information — either alternative has its advantage. 

I am glad to hear that the second edition is sellings for 
the sake of Messrs. Smith & Elder. I rather feared it 
would remain on hand;, and occasion loss. Wiithering 
Heights it appears is selling too^. and consequently Mr. 
Newby is getting into marvellously good tune with his 
authors. — I remain^ my dear sir^ yours faithfully. 

CuRRER Bell. 

I print the above letter here because of its sequel, 
which has something to say of Ehis — of Emily Bronte. 

TO w. s. willia:\is 

February isth, 1848. 

Dear Sir^ — Your letter^ as you may fancy, has given me 
something to think about. It has presented to my mind a 
curious picture, for the description you give is so vivid, I 
seem to reahse it all. I wanted information and I have got 
it. You have raised the veil from a corner of your great 
world — your London — and have shown me a glimpse of 
what I might call loathsome, but which I prefer calling 
strange. Such, then, is a sample of what amuses the 
metropolitan populace I Such is a view of one of their 
haunts ! 

147 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Did I not say that I would have gone to this theatre and 
witnessed this exhibition if it had been in my power? 
What absurdities people utter when they speaJc of they 
know not what ! 

You must try now to forget entirely what you saw. 

As to my next book^ I suppose it will grow to maturity 
in time^ as grass grows or corn ripens; but I cannot force 
it. It makes slow progress thus far: it is not every day, 
nor even everv' week that I can write what is worth read- 
ing; but I shall (if not hindered by other matters) be in- 
dustrious when the humour comes, and in due time I hope 
to see such a result as I shall not be ashamed to offer you, 
my publishers^ and the public. 

Have you not two classes of writers — the author and 
the bookmaker ? And is not the latter more prolific than 
the former? Is he not^ indeed, wonderfully fertile; but 
does the public, or the publisher even, make much account 
of his productions? Do not both tire of him in time? 

Is it not because authors aim at a stvle of livins^ better 
suited to merchants, professed gain-seekers, that they are 
often compelled to degenerate to mere bookmakers, and 
to find the great stimulus of their pen in the necessity of 
earning mioney? If they were not ashamed to be frugal, 
might they not be more independent? 

I should much — very much — like to take that quiet 
view of the " great world '' you allude to, but I have as 
yet won no right to give myself such a treat: it must 
be for some future day — when, I don't know. Ellis, I 
imagine, would soon turn aside from the spectacle in 
disgust. I do not think he admits it as his creed that 
" the proper study of mankind is man " — at least not the 
artificial man of cities. In some points I consider Ellis 
somewhat of a theorist: now and then he broaches ideas 
which strike my sense as much more daring and original 
than practical; his reason may be in advance of mine, but 
certainly it often travels a different road. I should say 
Ellis will not be seen in his full strength till he is seen 
as an essayist. 

I return to you the note inclosed under vour cover, it is 

148 



Emilv Tane Bronte 

from the editor of the Berwick Warder ; he wants a copy of 
Jane Eyre to review. 

With renewed thanks for your continued goodness to 
me^ — I remain^ my dear sir, yours faithfully, 

CuRRER Bell. 

A short time afterwards the illness came to Emily from 
which she died the same year. Branwell died in Sep- 
tember 1S48, and a month later Charlotte \^-rites with a 
heart full of misgivings: — 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

October 2gthy 1848. 

Dear Ellen^ — I am sorry you should have been uneasy 
at my not writing to you ere this^ but you must remember 
it is scarcely a week since I received your last, and my hfe 
is not so varied that in the interim much should have 
occurred worthy of mention. You insist that I should 
write about myself; this puts me in straits, for I really 
have nothing interesting to say about myself. I think 
I have now nearly got over the effects of my late illness, 
and am almost restored to my normal condition of health. 
I sometimes wish that it was a little higher, but we ought 
to be content with such blessings as we have, and not 
pine after those that are out of our reach. I feel much 
more uneasy about my sisters than myself just now. 
Emily's cold and cough are very obstinate. I fear she 
has pain in the chest, and I sometimes catch a shortness 
in her breathing, when she has moved at all quickly. She 
looks very, very thin and pale. Her reserved nature 
occasions me great uneasiness of mind. It is useless to 
question her — you get no answers. It is still more useless 
to recommend remedies — they are never adopted. Nor 
can I shut my eyes to the fact of Anne's great delicacy of 
constitution. The late sad event has, I feel, made me 
more apprehensive than common. I cannot help feeling- 
much depressed sometimes. I tr}- to leave all in God's 
hands; to trust in His goodness; but faith and resigna- 
tion are difficult to practise under some circumstances. 

149 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

The weather has been most unfavourable for invahds of 
late: sudden changes of temperature, and cold penetrat- 
ing winds have been frequent here. Should the atmo- 
sphere become settled, perhaps a favourable effect might 
be produced on the general health, and those harassing 
coughs and colds be removed. Papa has not quite escaped, 
but he has, so far, stood it out better than any of us. 
You must not mention my going to Brookroyd this 
winter. I could not, and would not, leave hom.e on any 
account. I am truly sorry to hear of Miss Heald's serious 
illness, it seems to me she has been for some years out of 
health now. These things make one feel as well as know, 
that this world is not our abiding-place. We should not 
knit human ties too close, or clasp human affections too 
fondly. They must leave us, or we must leave them, one 
day. Good-bye for the present. God restore health and 
strength to you and to all who need it. — Yours faithfully, 

C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Nove^nber 2nd, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — I have received, since I last wrote to you, 
two papers, the Standard of Freedom and the Morning 
Herald, both containing notices of the Poems; which 
notices, I hope, will at least serve a useful purpose to Mr. 
Smith in attracting public attention to the volume. As 
critiques, I should have thought more of them had they 
more fully recognised Ellis Bell's merits; but the lovers 
of abstract poetry are few in number. 

Your last letter was very welcome, it was written with 
so kind an intention: you made it so interesting in order 
to divert my mind. I should have thanked you for it 
before now, only that I kept waiting for a cheerful day 
and mood in which to address you, and I grieve to say 
the shadow which has fallen on our quiet home still lingers 
round it. I am better, but others are ill now. Papa is not 
well, my sister Emily has something like a slow inflam- 
mation of the lungs, and even our old servant, who has 

150 



Emily Jane Bronte 

lived with us nearly a quarter of a century^ is suffering 
under serious indisposition. 

I would fain hope that Emily is a little better this- 
evening, but it is difficult to ascertain this. She is a real 
stoic in illness : she neither seeks nor will accept s}TTipathy. 
To put any questions^ to offer any aid, is to annoy; she 
will not yield a step before pain or sickness till forced; 
not one of her ordinary avocations will she voluntarily 
renounce. You must look on and see her do what she is 
unfit to do, and not dare to say a word — a painful necessity 
for those to whom her health and existence are as precious 
as the life in their veins. When she is ill there seems ta 
be no sunshine in the world for me. The tie of sister is- 
near and dear indeed, and I think a certain harshness in 
her powerful and peculiar character only makes me cling- 
to her more. But this is all family egotism (so to speak) 
— excuse it, and, above all, never allude to it, or to the 
name Emily, when you WTite to me. I do not always 
show your letters, but I never withhold them when they 
are inquired after. 

I am sorry I cannot claim for the name Bronte the 
honour of being connected with the notice in the Bradford 
Observer. That paper is in the hands of dissenters, and 
I should think the best articles are usually written by 
one or two intelligent dissenting ministers in the town. 
Alexander Harris ^ is fortunate in your encouragement^ 
as Currer Bell once was. He has not forgotten the first 
letter he received from you, declining indeed his MS. of 
The Professor, but in terms so different from those in 
which the rejections of the other publishers had been 
expressed — with so much more sense and kind feeling, it 
took away the sting of disappointment and kindled new 
hope in his mind. 

Currer Bell might expostulate with you again about 
thinking too well of him, but he refrains; he prefers- 
acknowledging that the expression of a fellow creature's 
regard — even if more than he deserves — does him good: 

* Alexander Harris wrote A Converted Atheist's Testimony to the 
Truth of Christianity, and other now forgotten works. 

151 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

it gives him a sense of content. Whatever portion of the 
tribute is unmerited on his part, would, he is aware, if 
exposed to the test of daily acquaintance, disperse like a 
broken bubble, but he has confidence that a portion, 
however minute, of solid friendship would remain behind, 
and that portion he reckons amongst his treasures. 

I am glad, by-the-bye, to hear that Madeline is come 
out at last, and was happy to see a favourable notice of 
that work and of The Three Paths in the Morning Herald. 
I wish Miss Kavanagh all success.^ 

Trusting that Mrs Williams's health continues strong, 
and that your own and that of all your children is satis- 
factory, for without health there is little comfort, — I am, 
my dear sir, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

The next letter gives perhaps the most interesting 
glimpse of Emily that has been afforded us. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

November 22nd, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — I put your most friendly letter into 
Emily's hands as soon as I had myself perused it, taking 
care, however, not to say a word in favour of homoeo- 
pathy — that would not have answered. It is best usually 
to leave her to form her own judgment, and especially not 
to advocate the side you wish her to favour; if you do, 
she is sure to lean in the opposite direction, and ten to 
one will argue herself into non-compliance. Hitherto she 
has refused medicine, rejected medical advice; no reason- 
ing, no entreaty, has availed to induce her to see a 
physician. After reading your letter she said, " Mr. 
Williams's intention was kind and good, but he was under 

^ Julia Kavanagh (i 824-1 877). Her father, M. P. Kavanagh, 
wrote The Wanderings of Lucan and Dinah, a poetical romance, 
and other works. Miss Kavanagh was bom at Thurles and died 
at Nice. Her first book. The Three Paths, a tale for children, was 
published in 1847. Madeline, a story founded on the life of a 
peasant girl of Auvergne, in 1848. Women in France during the 
Eighteenth Century appeared in 1850, Nathalie the same year. In 
the succeeding years she wrote innumerable stories and biographical 
sketches. 

152 



Emily Jane Bronte 

a delusion: Homoeopathy was only another form of 
quackery." Yet she may reconsider this opinion and 
come to a different conclusion; her second thoughts are 
often the best. 

The North American Review is worth reading; there is 
no mincing the matter here. What a bad set the Bells 
must be ! WTiat appalling books they wTite ! To-day, as 
Emily appeared a little easier, I thought the Review w^ould 
amuse her, so I read it aloud to her and Anne. As I sat 
between them at our quiet but now somewhat melancholy 
fireside, I studied the two ferocious authors. Ellis, the 
" man of uncommon talents, but dogged, brutal, and 
morose,'* sat leaning back in his easy chair drawing his 
impeded breath as he best could, and looking, alas! 
piteously pale and wasted; it is not his wont to laugh, but 
he smiled half-amused and half in scorn as he listened. 
Acton was sewing, no emotion ever stirs him to loquacity, 
so he only smiled too, dropping at the same time a single 
word of calm amazement to hear his character so darkly 
pourtrayed. I wonder what the reviewer would have 
thought of his own sagacity could he have beheld the pair 
as I did. Vainly, too, might he have looked round for the 
mascuhne partner in the firm of ** Bell &: Co." How I 
laugh in my sleeve when I read the solemn assertions that 
Jane Eyre was written in partnership, and that it '' bears 
the marks of more than one mind and one sex." 

The wise critics would certainly sink a degree in their 
own estimation if they knew that yours or Mr. Smith's was 
the first masculine hand that touched the MS. of Jane 
Eyre, and that till you or he read it no masculine eye had 
scanned a line of its contents, no masculine ear heard a 
phrase from its pages. However, the view they take of 
the matter rather pleases me than othervvise. If they like^ 
I am not unwilling they should think a dozen ladies and 
gentlemen aided at the compilation of the book. Strange 
patchwork it must seem to them — this chapter being 
penned by Mr., and that by Miss or Mrs. Bell; that 
character or scene being delineated by the husband, that 
other by the wife ! The gentleman, of course, doing the 

^^53 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

rough work^ the lady getting up the finer parts. I admire 
the idea vastly. 

I have read Madeline, It is a fine pearl in simple set- 
ting. Julia Kavanagh has my esteem; I would rather 
know her than many far more brilUant personages. 
Somehow my heart leans more to her than to Ehza L}TLn^ 
for instance. Not that I have read either A^yiymone or 
Azeth, but I have seen extracts from them which I found 
it literally impossible to digest. They presented to my 
imagination Lytton Bulwer in petticoats — an ovenvhelm- 
ing vision. By-the-bye, the American critic talks ad- 
mirable sense about Bulwer — candour obliges me to 
confess that. 

I must abruptly bid you good-bye for the present. — 
Yours sincerely^ Currer Bell. 



TO W. S. WILLIMIS 

December "jth, 1848. 

My dear SiR; — I duly received Dr. Curie's work on 
Homoeopathy, and ought to apologise for having forgotten 
to thank you for it. I will return it when I have given it 
a more attentive perusal than I have yet had leisure to do. 
My sister has read it, but as yet she remains unshaken in 
her former opinion: she will not admit there can be 
efficacy in such a system. Were I in her place, it appears 
to me that I should be glad to give it a trial, confident 
that it can scarcely do harm and might do good. 

I can give no favourable report of Emily's state. My 
father is very despondent about her. Anne and I cherish 
hope as well as we can, but her appearance and her 
symptoms tend to crush that feeling. Yet I argue that 
the present emaciation, cough, weakness, shortness of 
breath are the results of inflammation, now, I trust, sub- 
sided, and that with time these ailments will gradually 
leave her. But my father shakes his head and speaks of 
others of our family once similarly afflicted, for whom he 
likewise persisted in hoping against hope, and who are 
now removed where hope and fear fluctuate no more. 

154 



Emily Jane Bronte 

There were^ however^ differences between their case and 
hers — important differences I think. I must cling to the 
expectation of her recovery'^ I cannot renounce it. 

Much would I give to have the opinion of a skilful pro- 
fessional man. It is easy^ my dear sir^ to say there is 
nothing in medicine, and that physicians are useless^ but 
we naturally wish to procure aid for those we love when 
we see them suffer; most painful is it to sit stilly look on, 
and do nothing. Would that my sister added to her 
many great qualities the humble one of tractability ! I 
have again and again incurred her displeasure by urging 
the necessity of seeking advice^ and I fear I must yet 
incur it again and again. Let me leave the subject; I 
have no right thus to make you a sharer in our sorrow. 

I am indeed surprised that Mr. Newby should say that 
he is to publish another work by Ellis and Acton Bell. 
Acton has had quite enough of him. I think I have before 
intimated that that author never more intends to have 
Mr. Newby for a pubhsher. Not only does he seem to 
forget that engagements made should be fulfilled^ but by 
a system of petty and contemptible manceu\Ting he 
throws an air of charlatanry over the works of which he 
has the management. This does not suit the ''' Bells: '' 
they have their o\^ti rude north-country ideas of what is 
dehcate^ honourable^ and gentlemanlike. 

Newby's conduct in no sort corresponds with these 
notions; they have found him— I will not say what they 
have found him. Two words that would exactly suit him 
are at my pen pointy but I shall not take the trouble to 
employ them. 

Ellis Bell is at present in no condition to trouble himself 
with thoughts either of writing or publishing. Should it 
please Heaven to restore his health and strength^ he re- 
serves to himself the right of deciding whether or not Mr. 
Newby has forfeited every claim to his second work. 

I have not yet read the second number of Pendemiis. 
The first I thought rich in indication of ease^ resource^ 
promise; but it is not Thackeray's way to develop his full 
power all at once. Vanity Fair began very quietly — it 

155 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

was quiet all through^ but the stream as it rolled gathered 
a resistless volume and force. Such, I doubt not, will be 
the case with Pendeiinis. 

You must forget what I said about Eliza Lynn. She 
may be the best of human beings, and I am but a narrow- 
minded fool to express prejudice against a person I have 
never seen. 

BeUeve me, my dear sir, in haste, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

The next four letters speak for themselves. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

December gth^ 1848. 

My dear Sir, — Your letter seems to relieve me from a 
difficulty and to open my way. I know it would be useless 
to consult Drs. Elliotson or Forbes: my sister would not 
see the most skilful physician in England if he were 
brought to her just now, nor would she follow his pre- 
scription. With regard to Homoeopathy, she has at least 
admitted that it cannot do much harm; perhaps if I get 
the medicines she may consent to try them; at any rate, 
the experiment shall be made. 

Not knowing Eh*. Epps's address, I send the inclosed 
statement of her case through your hands.^ 

^ It runs thus: — 

December gth, 1848. 

The patient, respecting whose case Dr. Epps is consulted, and for 
whom his opinion and advice are requested, is a female in her 
29th year. A peculiar reserve of character renders it difficult to 
draw from her all the symptoms of her malady, but as far as thej'' 
can be ascertained they are as follows: — 

Her appetite failed; she evinced a continual thirst, with a crav- 
ing for acids, and required a constant change of beverage. In 
appearance she grew rapidly emaciated; her pulse — the only 
time she allowed it to be felt — was found to be 115 per minute. 
The patient usually appeared worse in the forenoon, she was then 
frequently exhausted and drowsy; toward evening she often 
seemed better. 

Expectoration accompanies the cough. The shortness of breath 
is aggravated by the slightest exertion. The patient's sleep is 
supposed to be tolerably good at intervals, but disturbed by 
paroxysms of coughing. Her resolution to contend against illness 
being very fixed, she has never consented to lie in bed for a single 

156 



Emily Jane Bronte 

I deeply feel both your kindness and Mr. Smitb/s in 
thus interesting yourselves in what touches me so nearly. 
— Believe me, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

December 15 /A, 1848. 

My dear Ellen. — I mentioned your coming here to 
Emily as a mere suggestion, with the faint hope that the 
prospect might cheer her, as she really esteems you perhaps 
more than any other person out of this house. I found, 
however, it would not do; any, the slightest excitement 
or putting out of the way is not to be thought of, and 
indeed I do not think the journey in this unsettled weather 
with the walk from Keighley and walk back, at all ad- 
visable for yourself. Yet I should have hked to see you, 
and so would Anne. Emily continues much the same; 
yesterday I thought her a httle better, but to-day she is 
not so well. I hope still, for I must hope — she is dear to 
me as life. If I let the faintness of despair reach my heart 
I shall become worthless. The attack was, I beheve, in 
the first place, inflammation of the lungs; it ought to 
have been met promptly in time. She is too intractable. 
I do wish I knew her state and feelins^s more clearlv. The 
fever is not so high as it was, but the pain in the side, 
the cough, the emaciation are there still. 

Remember me kindly to all at Brookroyd, and believe 
me, yours faithfully. C. Bronte. 

day — she sits up from 7 in the morning till 10 at night. All medical 
aid she has rejected, insisting that Nature should be left to take her 
own course. She has taken no medicine, but occasionally a mild 
aperient and Locock's cough wafers, of which she has used about 
3 per diem, and considers their effect rather beneficial. Her diet, 
which she regulates herself, is very simple and light. 

The patient has hitherto enjoyed pretty good health, though she 
has never looked strong, and the family constitution is not supposed 
to be robust. Her temperament is highly nervous. She has been 
accustomed to a sedentary and studious life. 

If Dr. Epps can, from what has here been stated, give an opinion 
on the case and prescribe a course of treatment, he will greatly oblige 
the patient's friends. 

Address — Miss Bronte, Parsonage, Haworth, Bradford, Yorks. 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

December 2 yd, 1848. 

My dear Ellen^ — Emily suffers no more from pain or 
weakness now. She will never suffer more in this world. 
She is gone, after a hard, short conflict. She died on 
Tuesday, the very day I wrote to you. I thought it very 
possible she might be with us still for weeks, and a few 
hours afterwards she was in eternity. Yes, there is no 
Emily in time or on earth now. Yesterday we put her 
poor, wasted, mortal frame quietly under the church 
pavement. We are very calm at present. Why should 
we be otherwise? The anguish of seeing her suffer is 
over; the spectacle of the pains of death is gone by; the 
funeral day is past. We feel she is at peace. No need 
now to tremble for the hard frost and the keen wind. 
Emily does not feel them. She died in a time of promise. 
We saw her taken from life in its prime. But it is God's 
will, and the place w^here she is gone is better than she 
has left. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

December 2^th, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — I will write to you more at length when 
my heart can find a little rest — now I can only thank you 
very briefly for your letter, which seemed to me eloquent 
in its sincerity. 

Emily is nowhere here now, her wasted mortal remains 
are taken out of the house. We have laid her cherished 
head under the church aisle beside my mother's, my two 
sisters' — dead long ago — and my poor, hapless brother's. 
But a small remnant of the race is left — so my poor father 
thinks. 

Well, the loss is ours, not hers, and some sad comfort I 
take, as I hear the wind blow and feel the cutting keenness 
of the frost, in knowing that the elements bring her no 
more suffering; their severity cannot reach her grave; her 
fever is quieted, her restlessness soothed, her deep, hollow 

158 



Emily Jane Bronte 

cough is hushed for ever; we do not hear it in the night 
nor Hsten for it in the morning; we have not the conflict 
of the strangely strong spirit and the fragile frame before 
us — relentless conflict — once seen^ never to be forgotten. 
A dreary calm reigns round us, in the midst of which we 
seek resignation. 

My father and my sister Anne are far from well. As 
for me, God has hitherto most graciously sustained me; 
so far I have felt adequate to bear my own burden and 
even to offer a little help to others. I am not ill; I can 
get through daily duties, and do something towards keep- 
ing hope and energy alive in our mourning household. 
My father says to me almost hourly, '^ Charlotte, you 
must bear up, I shall sink if you fail me; " these words, 
you can conceive, are a stimulus to nature. The sight, 
too, of my sister Anne's very still but deep sorrow wakens 
in me such fear for her that I dare not falter. Somebody 
7niist cheer the rest. 

So I will not now ask why Emily was torn from us in the 
fulness of our attachment, rooted up in the prime of her 
own days, in the promise of her powers ; why her existence 
now lies like a field of green corn trodden down, like a tree 
in full bearing struck at the root. I will only say, sweet 
is rest after labour and calm after tempest, and repeat 
again and again that Emily knows that now. — Yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte. 

And then there are these last pathetic references to 
the beloved sister. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

January 2nd, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — Untoward circumstances come to me, I 
think, less painfully than pleasant ones would just now. 
The lash of the Quarterly, however severely applied, cannot 
sting — as its praise probably would not elate me. Currer 
Bell feels a sorrowful independence of reviews and re- 
viewers; their approbation might indeed fall hke an 

159 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

additional weight on his heart, but their censure has no 
bitterness for him. 

My sister Anne sends the accompanying answer to the 
letter received through you the other day; will you be 
kind enough to post it? She is not well yet, nor is papa, 
both are suffering under severe influenza colds. My letters 
had better be brief at present — they cannot be cheerful. 
I am, however, still sustained. While looking with dis- 
may on the desolation sickness and death have wrought 
in our home, I can combine with awe of God's judgments 
a sense of gratitude for his mercies. Yet life has become 
very void, and hope has proved a strange traitor; when 
I shall again be able to put confidence in her suggestions, 
I know not: she kept whispering that Emily would not, 
could not die, and where is she now? Out of my reach, 
out of my world — torn from me. — ^Yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

March T^rd^ 1849. 

My dear Sir, — Hitherto, I have always forgotten to 
acknowledge the receipt of the parcel from Cornhill. It 
came at a time when I could not open it nor think of it; 
its contents are still a mystery. I will not taste, till I can 
enjoy them. I looked at it the other day. It reminded 
me too sharply of the time when the first parcel arrived 
last October: Emily was then beginning to be ill — the 
opening of the parcel and examination of the books cheered 
her; their perusal occupied her for many a weary day. 
The very evening before her last morning dawned I read 
to her one of Emerson's essays. I read on, till I found 
she was not listening — I thought to recommence next day. 
Next day, the first glance at her face told me what would 
happen before night-fall. C. Bronte. 

November igtk, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I am very sorry to hear that Mr. Taylor's 
illness has proved so much more serious than was antici- 
pated, but I do hope he is now better. That he should be 
quite well cannot be as yet expected, for I believe rheu- 

160 



Emily Jane Bronte 

matic fever is a complaint slow to leave the system it has 
invaded. 

Now that I have almost formed the resolution of coming 
to London, the thought begins to present itself to me 
under a pleasant aspect. At first it was sad ; it recalled 
the last time I went and with whom, and to whom I came 
home, and in what dear companionship I again and again 
narrated all that had been seen, heard, and uttered in that 
visit. Emily would never go into any sort of society 
herself, and whenever I went I could on my return com- 
municate to her a pleasure that suited her, by giving the 
distinct faithful impression of each scene I had witnessed. 
When pressed to go, she would sometimes say, *' What 
is the use ? Charlotte will bring it all home to me." And 
indeed I delighted to please her thus. My occupation is 
gone now. 

I shall come to be lectured. I perceive you are ready 
with animadversion; you are not at all well satisfied on 
some points, so I will open my ears to hear, nor will I close 
my heart against conviction; but I forewarn you, I have 
my own doctrines, not acquired, but innate, some that I 
fear cannot be rooted up without tearing away all the soil 
from which they spring, and leaving only unproductive 
rock for new seed. 

I have read the Caxtons, I have looked at Fanny Hervey, 
I think I will not write what I think of either — should I 
see you I will speak it. 

Take a hundred, take a thousand of such works and 
weigh them in the balance against a page of Thackeray. 
I hope Mr. Thackeray is recovered. 

The Sun, the Morning Herald, and the Critic came this 
morning. None of them express disappointment from 
Shirley, or on the whole compare her disadvantageously 
with Jane. It s rikes me that those worthies — the 
AthencBum, Spectator, Economist, made haste to be fist 
with their notices, that they might give the tone; if so, 
their manoeuvre has not yet quite succeeded. 

The Critic, our old friend, is a friend still. Why does the 
pulse of pain beat in every pleasure.^ Ellis and Acton 

i6i F 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Bell are referred to^ and where are they? I will not 
repine. Faith whispers they are not in those graves to 
which imagination turns — the feelings thinkings the in- 
spired natures are beyond earthy in a region more glorious. 
I believe them blessed. I think, I will think, my loss has 
been their gain. Does it weary you that I refer to them ? 
If so, forgive me. — Yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

Before closing this I glanced over the letter inclosed 
under your cover. Did you read it.^ It is from a lady, 
not quite an old maid, but nearly one, she says; no 
signature or date; a queer, but good-natured production, 
it made me half cry, half laugh. I am sure Shirley has 
been exciting enough for her, and too exciting. I cannot 
well reply to the letter since it bears no address, and I 
am glad — I should not know what to say. She is not sure 
whether I am a gentleman or not, but I fancy she thinks 
so. Have you any idea who she is } If I were a gentle- 
man and like my heroes, she suspects she should fall in love 
with me. She had better not. It would be a pity to 
cause such a waste of sensibility. You and Mr. Smith 
would not let me announce myself as a single gentleman 
of mature age in my preface, but if you had permitted it, 
a great many elderly spinsters would have been pleased. 

The last words that I have to say concerning Emily 
are contained in a letter to me from Miss Ellen Nussey. 

So very little is known of Emily Bronte [she writes], that 
every little detail awakens an interest. Her extreme 
reserve seemed impenetrable, yet she was intensely lovable ; 
she invited confidence in her moral power. Few people 
have the gift of looking and smiling as she could look and 
smile. One of her rare expressive looks was something to 
remember through life, there was such a depth of soul and 
feeling, and yet a shyness of revealing herself — a strength 
of self-containment seen in no other. She was in the 
strictest sense a law unto herself, and a heroine in keeping 
to her law. She and gentle Anne were to be seen twined 
together as united statues of power and humility.^ They 
were to be seen with their arms lacing each other in their 

162 



Emily jane Bronte 

younger days whenever their occupations permitted their 
union. On the top of a moor or in a deep glen Emily was 
a child in spirit for glee and enjoyment; or when thrown 
entirely on her own resources to do a kindness^ she could 
be vivacious in conversation and enjoy giving pleasure. 
A spell of mischief also lurked in her on occasions when 
out on the moors. She enjoyed leading Charlotte where 
she would not dare to go of her own free-will. Charlotte 
had a mortal dread of unknown animals, and it was Emily's 
pleasure to lead her into close vicinity, and then to tell 
her of how and of what she had done, laughing at her 
horror with great amusement. If Emily wanted a book 
she might have left in the sitting-room she would dart in 
again without looking at anyone, especially if any guest 
were present. Among the curates, Mr. Weightman was 
her only exception for any conventional courtesy. The 
ability with which she took up music was amazing; the 
style, the touch, and the expression was that of a pro- 
fessor absorbed heart and soul in his theme. The two 
dogs, Keeper and Flossy, were always in quiet waiting by 
the side of Emily and Anne during their breakfast of 
Scotch oatmeal and milk, and always had a share handed 
down to them at the close of the meal. Poor old Keeper, 
Emily's faithful friend and worshipper, seemed to under- 
stand her like a human being. One evening, when the 
four friends were sitting closely round the fire in the 
sitting-room. Keeper forced himself in between Charlotte 
and Emily and mounted himself on Emily's lap; finding 
the space too limited for his comfort he pressed himself 
forward on to the guest's knees, making himself quite 
comfortable. Emily's heart was won by the unresisting 
endurance of the visitor, little guessing that she herself, 
being in close contact, was the inspiring cause of sub- 
mission to Keeper's preference. Sometimes Emily would 
delight in showing off Keeper — make him frantic in action, 
and roar with the voice of a lion. It was a terrifying 
exhibition within the walls of an ordinary sitting-room. 
Keeper was a solemn mourner at Emily's funeral and 
never recovered his cheerfulness. 

163 



CHAPTER VII 

ANNE BRONTE 

It can scarcely be doubted that Anne Bronte's two 
novels, Agnes Grey and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, 
would have long since fallen into oblivion but for the 
inevitable association with the romances of her two 
greater sisters. While this may be taken for granted, it 
is impossible not to feel, even at the distance of more than 
half a century, a sense of Anne's personal charm. Gentle- 
ness is a word always associated wdth her by those who 
knew her. When Mr. Nicholls saw what professed to be a 
portrait of Anne in a magazine article, he wrote: " What 
an awful caricature of the dear, gentle Anne Bronte!'* 
Mr. Nicholls had a portrait of Anne in his possession, 
drawn by Charlotte, which he pronounced to be an 
admirable likeness, and this does convey the impression 
of a sweet and gentle nature. 

Anne, as we have seen, was taken in long clothes from 
Thornton to Haworth. Her godmother was a Miss 
Outhwaite, a fact I learn from an inscription in Anne's 
Book of Common Prayer. " Miss Outhwaite to her god- 
daughter, Anne Bronte, July 13th, 1827." Miss Outh- 
waite was not forgetful of her goddaughter, for by her 
will she left Anne ^200. 

There is a sampler worked by Anne, bearing date 
January 23rd, 1830, and there is a later book than the 
Prayer Book, with Anne's name in it, and, as might be 
expected, it is a good-conduct prize. Prize for good 
conduct presented to Miss A, Bronte with Miss Wooler's 
kind love. Roe Head, Dec. 14th, 1836, is the inscription 
in a copy of Watt On the Improvement of the Mind. 

Apart from the correspondence we know little more 
than this — that Anne was the least assertive of the three 
sisters, and that she was more distinctly a general 
favourite. We have Charlotte's own word for it that at 
least one of the curates ventured upon " sheep's eyes " at 
Anne. We know all too little of her two experiences 
as governess, first at Blake Hall with Mrs. Ingham, and 
later at Thorp Green with Mrs. Robinson. The painful 

164 



Anne Bronte 

episode of Branweirs madness came to disturb her 
sojourn at the latter place, but long afterwards her old 
pupils, the Misses Robinson, called to see her at Haworth; 
and one of them, who became a Mrs. Clapham of Keighley , 
always retained the most kindly memories of her gentle 
governess. 

With the exception of these two uncomfortable epi- 
sodes as governess, Anne would seem to have had no 
experience of the larger world. Even before Anne's 
death, Charlotte had visited Brussels, London, and 
Hathersage (in Derbyshire). Anne never, but once, set 
foot out of her native county, although she was the only 
one of her family to die away from home. Of her corre- 
spondence I print the two following letters: — 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ October 4th, 1847. 

My dear Miss Nussey^ — Many thanks to you for your 
unexpected and welcome epistle. Charlotte is well, and 
meditates writing to you. Happily for all parties the 
east wind no longer prevails. During its continuance she 
complained of its influence as usual. I too suffered from 
it in some degree, as I always do, more or less; but this 
time, it brought me no reinforcement of colds and coughs, 
which is what I dread the most. Emily considers it a 
very uninteresting wind, but it does not afect her nervous 
system. Charlotte agrees with me in thinking the 

^ a very provoking affair. You are quite mistaken 

about her parasol; she affirms she brought it back, and 
I can bear witness to the fact, having seen it yesterday 
in her possession. As for my book, I have no wish to see 
it again till I see you along with it, and then it will be 
welcome enough for the sake of the bearer. We are all 
here much as you left us. I have no news to tell you, 
except that Mr. Nicholls begged a holiday and went to 
Ireland three or four weeks ago, and is not expected back 
till Saturday ; but that, I dare say, is no news at all. We 
were all and severally pleased and gratified for your kind 

* The original of this letter is lost, so that it is not possible to 
fill in the hiatus. 

165 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

and judiciously selected presents^ from papa down to 
Tabby^ or down to myself^ perhaps I ought rather to say. 
The crab-cheese is excellent^ and likely to be very useful, 
but I don't intend to need it. It is not choice but neces- 
sity has induced me to choose such a tiny sheet of paper 
for my letter, having none more suitable at hand; but 
perhaps it will contain as much as you need wish to read, 
and I to write, for I find I have nothing more to say, 
except that your little Tabby must be a charming little 
creature. That is all, for as Charlotte is writing, or 
about to write to you herself, I need not send any messages 
from her. Therefore accept my best love. I must not 
omit the Major's ^ complim.ents. And — Believe me to 
be your affectionate friend, Anne Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, January /^th, 1848. 

My dear Miss Nussey, — I am not going to give you 
a " nice long letter " — on the contrary, I mean to content 
myself with a shabby little note, to be ingulfed in a letter 
of Charlotte's, which wall, of course, be infinitely more 
acceptable to you than any production of mine, though 
I do not question your friendly regard for me, or the in- 
dulgent welcome you would accord to a missive of mine, 
even without a more agreeable companion to back it; 
but you must know there is a lamentable deficiency in 
my organ of language, which makes me almost as bad 
a hand at writing as talking, unless I have something 
particular to say. I have now, how^ever, to thank you 
and your friend for your kind letter and her pretty watch- 
guards, which I am sure we shall all of us value the more 
for being the work of her owti hands. You do not tell 
us how you bear the present unfavourable weather. We 
are all cut up by this cruel east wind. Most of us, i.e. 
Charlotte, Emily, and I have had the influenza, or a bad 
cold instead, twice over within the space of a few weeks. 

1 Emily — who was called the Major, because ou one occasion 
she guarded Miss Nussey from the attentions of Mr. Weightman 
during an evening walk. 

166 



Anne Bronte 

Papa has had it once. Tabby has escaped it altogether. 
I have no news to tell you^ for we have been nowhere, 
seen no one, and done nothing (to speak of) since you were 
here — and yet we contrive to be busy from morning till 
night. Flossy is fatter than ever, but still active enough 
to relish a sheep-hunt. I hope you and your circle have 
been more fortunate in the matter of colds than we have. 
With kind regards to all, — I remain, dear Miss Nussey, 
yours ever affectionately, Anne Bronte. 

Agnes Grey, as we have noted, was published by 
Nev/by, in one volume, in 1847. The Tenant of Wildfell 
Hall was issued by the same publisher, in three volumes, 
in 1848. It is not generally known that The Tenant of 
Wildfell Hall went into a second edition the same year; 
and I should have pronounced it incredible, were not a 
copy of the later issue in my possession, that Anne 
Bronte had actually written a preface to this edition. 
The fact is entirely ignored in the correspondence. The 
preface in question makes it quite clear, if any evidence 
of that were necessary, that Anne had her brother in 
mind in writing the book. *' I could not be understood 
to suppose,'' she says, " that the proceedings of the 
unhappy scapegrace, with his few profligate companions 
I have here introduced, are a specimen of the common 
practices of society: the case is an extreme one, as I 
trusted none would fail to perceive; but I knew that 
such characters do exist, and if I have warned one rash 
youth from following in their steps, or prevented one 
thoughtless girl from falling into the very natural error 
of my heroine, the book has not been written in vain." 
*' One word more and I have done,'* she continues. 
*' Respecting the author's identity, I would have it to be 
distinctly understood that Acton Bell is neither Currer 
nor Ellis Bell, and, therefore, let not his faults be attri- 
buted to them. As to whether the name is real or 
fictitious, it cannot greatly signify to those who know 
him only by his works." 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

January iSth, 1849. 
My dear Sir, — In sitting down to write to you I feel 
as if I were doing a wrong and a selfish thing. I believe 

167 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

I ought to discontinue my correspondence with you till 
times change, and the tide of calamity which of late days 
has set so strongly in against us takes a turn. But the 
fact is, sometimes I feel it absolutely necessary to un- 
burden my mind. To papa I must only speak cheeringly, 
to Anne only encouragingly — to you I may give some 
hint of the dreary truth. 

Anne and I sit alone and in seclusion as you fancy us, 
but we do not study. Anne cannot study now, she can 
scarcely read; she occupies Emily's chair; she does not 
get well. A week ago we sent for a medical man of skill 
and experience from Leeds to see her. He examined her 
with the stethoscope. His report I forbear to dwell on 
for the present — even skilful physicians have often been 
mistaken in their conjectures. 

My first impulse was to hasten her away to a warmer 
climate, but this was forbidden: she must not travel; 
she is not to stir from the house this winter; the tempera- 
ture of her room is to be kept constantly equal. 

Had leave been given to try change of air and scene, I 
should hardly have known how to act. I could not 
possibly leave papa; and when I mentioned his accom- 
panying us, the bare thought distressed him too much 
to be dwelt upon. Papa is now upwards of seventy 
years of age ; his habits for nearly thirty years have been 
those of absolute retirement; any change in them is most 
repugnant to him, and probably could not, at this time 
especially when the hand of God is so heavy upon his old 
age, be ventured upon without danger. 

When we lost Emily I thought we had drained the very 
dregs of our cup of trial, but now when I hear Anne cough 
as Emily coughed, I tremble lest there should be exquisite 
bitterness yet to taste. However, I must not look 
forwards, nor must I look backwards. Too often I feel like 
one crossing an abyss on a narrow plank — a glance round 
might quite unnerve. 

So circumstanced, my dear sir, what claim have I on 
your friendship, what right to the comfort of your letters ? 
My literary character is effaced for the time, and it is by 

i68 



Anne Bronte 

that only you know me. Care of papa and Anne is 
necessarily my chief present object in Hfe, to the exclusion 
of all that could give me interest with my publishers or 
their connections. Should Anne get better, I think I 
could rally and become Currer Bell once more, but if 
otherwise, I look no farther: sufficient for the day is the 
evil thereof. 

Anne is very patient in her illness, as patient as Emily 
was unflinching. I recall one sister and look at the other 
with a sort of reverence as well as affection — under the 
test of suffering neither has faltered. 

All the days of this winter have gone by darkly and 
heavily like a funeral train. Since September, sickness 
has not quitted the house. It is strange it did not use to 
be so, but I suspect now all this has been coming on for 
years. Unused, any of us, to the possession of robust 
health, we have not noticed the gradual approaches of 
decay; we did not know its symptoms: the little cough, 
the small appetite, the tendency to take cold at every 
variation of atmosphere have been regarded as things of 
course. I see them in another light now. 

If you answer this, write to me as you would to a person 
in an average state of tranquillity and happiness. I want 
to keep myself as firm and calm as I can. While papa and 
Anne want me, I hope, I pray, never to fail them. Were 
I to see you I should endeavour to converse on ordinar}^ 
topics, and I should wish to write on the same — besides, 
it will be less harassing to yourself to address me as usual. 

May God long preserve to you the domestic treasures 
you value ; and when bereavement at last comes, may He 
give you strength to bear it. — Yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

February ist, 1849^ 

My dear Sir, — Anne seems so tranquil this morning, 
so free from pain and fever, and looks and speaks so like 
herself in healthy that I too feel relieved, and I take 

169 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

advantage of the respite to write to you, hoping that my 
letter may reflect something of the comparative peace I feel. 

Whether my hopes are quite fallacious or not, I do not 
know; but sometimes I fancy that the remedies prescribed 
by Mr. Teale, and approved — as I was glad to learn — by 
Dr. Forbes, are working a good result. Consumption, I 
am aware, is a flattering malady, but certainly Anne's 
illness has of late assumed a less alarming character than 
it had in the beginning : the hectic is allayed ; the cough 
gives a more frequent reprieve. Could I but believe she 
would live two years — a year longer, I should be thankful : 
I dreaded the terrors of the swift messenger which snatched 
Emily from us, as it seemed, in a few days. 

The parcel came yesterday. You and Mr. Smith do 
nothing by halves. Neither of you care for being thanked, 
so I will keep my gratitude in my own mind. The choice 
of books is perfect. Papa is at this moment reading 
Macaulay's History, which he had wished to see. Anne 
is engaged with one of Frederika Bremer's tales. 

I wish I could send a parcel in return; I had hoped to 
have had one by this time ready to despatch. When I 
saw you and Mr. Smith in London, I little thought of all 
that was to come between July and Spring: how my 
thoughts were to be caught away from imagination, 
enlisted and absorbed in realities the most cruel. 

I will tell you what I want to do ; it is to show you the 
first volume of my MS., which I have copied. In reading 
Mary Barton (a clever though painful tale) I was a little 
dismayed to find myself in some measure anticipated both 
in subject and incident. I should like to have your 
opinion on this point, and to know whether the resemblance 
appears as considerable to a stranger as it does to myself. 
I should wish also to have the benefit of such general 
strictures and advice as you choose to give. Shall I 
therefore send the MS. when I return the first batch of 
books ? 

But remember, if I show it to you it is on two con- 
ditions: the first, that you give me a faithful opinion — 
I do not promise to be swayed by it, but I should like to 

170 



Anne Bronte 

have it; the second^ that you show it and speak of it to 
none but Mr. Smith. I have ahvays a great horror of 
premature announcements — they may do harmx and can 
never do good. Mr. Smith must be so kind as not to 
mention it yet in his quarterly circulars. All human 
affairs are so uncertain^ and my position especially is at 
present so pecuhar, that I cannot count on the time^ and 
v»'ould rather that no allusion should be made to a work 
of which great part is yet to create. 

There are two volumes in the first parcel which, having 
seen, I cannot bring myself to part with, and must 
beg Mr. Smith's permission to retain: Mr. Thackeray's 
Journey from CornhilL etc. and The testimony to the Truth. 
That last is indeed a book after my owti heart. I do like 
the mind it discloses — it is of a fine and high order. 
Alexander Harris may be a c1o\\ti by birth, but he is a 
nobleman by nature. When I could read no other book, 
I read his and derived comfort from it. No matter 
whether or not I can agree in all his views, it is the 
principles, the feelings, the heart of the man I admire. 

Write soon and tell me whether you think it advisable 
that I should send the MS. — ^\"ours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Haworth, February 4th, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I send the parcel up without delay, 
according to your request. The manuscript has all its 
errors upon it, not having been read through since copying. 
I have kept Madeline, along with the two other books I 
mentioned: I shall consider it the s^ift of Miss Kavanasfh. 
and shall value it both for its literary excellence and for 
the modest merit of the giver. We already possess 
Tennyson's Poems and Our Street. Emerson's Essays 
1 read with much interest, and often with admiration, 
but they are of mixed gold and clay — deep and invigorat- 
ing truth, dreary and depressing fallacy seem to me com- 

171 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

bined therein. In George Borrow's works I found a wild 
fascination, a vivid graphic power of description, a fresh 
originahty^ an athletic simplicity (so to speak), which give 
them a stamp of their own. After reading his Bible in 
Spain I felt as if I had actually travelled at his side, and 
SQtn the '' wild Sil " rush from its mountain cradle; 
wandered in the hilly wilderness of the Sierras; en- 
countered and conversed with Manehegan, Castillian, 
Andalusian, Arragonese, and, above all, with the savage 
Gitanos. 

Your mention of Mr. Taylor suggests to me that possibly 
you and Mr. Smith might wish him to share the little secret 
of the MS. — that exclusion might seem invidious, that it 
might make your mutual evening chat less pleasant. If 
so, admit him to the confidence by all means. He is 
attached to the firm, and will no doubt keep its secrets. 
I shall be glad of another censor, and if a severe one, so 
much the better, provided he is also just. I court the 
keenest criticism. Far rather would I never publish more, 
than publish anything inferior to my first effort. Be 
honest, therefore, all three of you. If you think this 
book promises less favourably than Jane Eyre, say so; 
it is but trying again, i,e., if life and health be spared. 

Anne continues a little better — the mild weather suits 
her. At times I hear the renewal of hope's whisper, but 
I dare not listen too fondly; she deceived me cruelly 
before. A sudden change to cold would be the test. I 
dread such change, but must not anticipate. Spring lies 
before us, and then summer — surely we may hope a little! 

Anne expresses a wish to see the notices of the poems. 
You had better, therefore, send them. We shall expect 
to find painful allusions to one now above blame and 
beyond praise ; but these must be borne. For ourselves, 
we are almost indifferent to censure. I read the Quarterly 
without a pang, except that I thought there were some 
sentences disgraceful to the critic. He seems anxious to 
let it be understood that he is a person well acquainted 
with the habits of the upper classes. Be this as it may, 
I am afraid he is no gentleman; and moreover, that no 

172 



Anne Bronte 

training could make him such.^ Many a poor man^ bom 
and bred to labour, would disdain that reviewer's cast of 
feeling. — Yours sincerely^ C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLIMIS 

March 2ndy 1849. 

My dear Sir, — My sister still continues better: she has 
less languor and weakness; her spirits are improved. This 
change gives cause, I think, both for gratitude and hope. 

I am glad that you and Mr. Smith like the commence- 
ment of my present work. I wish it were more than a 
commencement; for how it will be reunited after the long 
break, or how it can gather force of flow when the current 
has been checked or rather drawn off so long, I know not. 

I sincerely thank you both for the candid expression of 
your objections. What you say with reference to the first 
chapter shall be duly weighed. At present I feel reluctant 
to withdraw it, because, as I formerly said of the Lowood 
part of Jane Eyre, it is true. The curates and their on- 
goings are merely photographed from the life. I should 
Uke you to explain to me more fully the ground of your 
objections. Is it because you think this chapter will 
render the work liable to severe handling by the press? 
Is it because knowing as you now do the identity of 
" Currer Bell," this scene strikes you as unfeminine? Is 
it because it is intrinsically defective and inferior? I am 
afraid the two first reasons would not weigh with me — 
the last would. 

Anne and I thought it very kind in you to preserve all 
the notices of the Poems so carefully for us. Some of 
them, as you said, were well worth reading. We were 
glad to find that our old friend the Critic has again a kind 
word for us. I was struck with one curious fact, viz., 
that four of the notices are fac-similes of each other. How 
does this happen? I suppose they copy. 

^ In his next letter Mr. Williams informed her that Miss Rigby 
was the writer of the Quarterly article. 

173 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

March Sth, 1849. 

Dear Ellen ^ — Anne's state has apparently varied very- 
little during the last fortnight or three weeks. I wish I 
could say she gains either fleshy strength, or appetite; but 
there is no progress on these points, nor I hope, as far 
as regards the two last at least, any falling off; she is 
piteously thin. Her cough, and the pain in her side 
continue the same. 

I write these few lines that you may not think my 
continued silence strange; anything like frequent corre- 
spondence I cannot keep up, and you must excuse me. I 
trust you and all at Brookroyd are happy and well. Give 
my love to your mother and all the rest, and — Believe me, 
yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

March nth, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — My sister has been something worse 
since I wrote last. We have had nearly a week of frost, 
and the change has tried her, as I feared it would do, 
though not so severely as former experience had led me to 
apprehend. I am thankful to say she is now again a 
little better. Her state of mind is usually placid, and her 
chief sufferings consist in the harassing cough and a sense 
of languor. 

I ought to have acknowledged the safe arrival of the 
parcel before now, but I put it off from day to day, fearing 
I should write a sorrowful letter. A similar apprehension 
induces me to abridge this note. 

Believe me, whether in happiness or the contrary, yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS LiETITIA WHEELWRIGHT 

Ha WORTH, March 15/A, 1849. 

Dear L^etitia, — I have not quite forgotten you through 
the winter, but I have remembered you only like some 

174 



Anne Bronte 

pleasant waking idea struggling through a dreadful dream. 
You say my last letter was dated September 14th. You 
ask how I have passed the time since. \Vhat has happened 
to me ? Why have I been silent ? 

It is soon told. 

On the 24th of September my only brother^ after being 
long in weak healthy and latterly consumptive — though 
we were far from apprehending immediate danger — died, 
quite suddenly as it seemed to us. He had been out two 
days before. The shock was great. Ere he could be 
interred I fell ill. A low nervous fever left me very weak. 
As I was slowly recovering, my sister Emily, whom you 
knew, was seized with inflammation of the lungs ; suppura- 
tion took place; two agonising months of hopes and fears 
followed, and on the 19th of December she died. 

She was scarcely cold in her grave when Anne, my 
youngest and last sister, who has been delicate all her life, 
exhibited symptoms that struck us with acute alarm. 
We sent for the first advice that could be procured. She 
was examined with the stethoscope, and the dreadful fact 
was announced that her lungs too were affected, and that 
tubercular consumption had already made considerable 
progress. A system of treatment was prescribed, which 
has since been ratified by the opinion of Dr. Forbes, whom 
your papa will, I dare say, know. I hope it has somewhat 
delayed disease. She is now a patient invahd, and I am 
her nurse. God has hitherto supported me in some sort 
through all these bitter calamities, and my father, I am 
thankful to say, has been wonderfully sustained; but 
there have been hours, days, weeks of inexpressible anguish 
to undergo, and the cloud of impending distress still 
lowers dark and sullen above us. I cannot wTite much. 
I can only pray Providence to preserve you and yours 
from such affliction as He has seen good to accumulate 
on me and mine. 

With best regards to your dear mamma and all your 
circle, — Believe me, yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 



175 



The Brontes and Their Circle 



TO MISS WOOLER 

Haworth, March 24th, 1849. 

My dear Miss Wooler^ — I have delayed answering 
your letter in the faint hope that I might be able to reply 
favourably to your inquiries after my sister's health. 
This, however, is not permitted me to do. Her decline 
is gradual and fluctuating, but its nature is not doubtful. 
The symptoms of cough, pain in the side and chest, wast- 
ing of flesh, strength, and appetite, after the sad experience 
we have had, cannot but be regarded by us as equivocal. 

In spirit she is resigned; at heart she is, I believe, a true 
Christian. She looks beyond this life, and regards her 
home and rest as elsewhere than on earth. May God 
support her and all of us through the trial of lingering 
sickness, and aid her in the last hour when the struggle 
which separates soul from body must be gone through! 

We saw Emily torn from the midst of us when our hearts 
clung to her with intense attachment, and when, loving 
each other as we did— well, it seemed as if (might we but 
have been spared to each other) w^e could have found 
complete happiness in our mutual society and affection. 
She was scarcely buried when Anne's health failed, and 
we were warned that consumption had found another 
victim in her, and that it would be vain to reckon on her 
life. 

These things would be too much if Reason, unsupported 
by Religion, were condemned to bear them alone. I have 
cause to be most thankful for the strength which has 
hitherto been vouchsafed both to my father and myself. 
God, I think, is specially merciful to old age; and for my 
own part, trials which in prospective would have seemed 
to me quite intolerable, when they actually came, I en- 
dured without prostration. Yet, I must confess, that in 
the time which has elapsed since Emily's death, there 
have been moments of solitary, deep, inert affliction, far 
harder to bear than those which immediately followed our 
loss. The crisis of bereavement has an acute pang which 

176 



Anne Bronte 

goads to exertion, the desolate after-feeling sometimes 
paralyses. 

I have learned that we are not to find solace in our own 
strength: we must seek it in God's omnipotence. Forti- 
tude is good, but fortitude itself must be shaken under us 
to teach us how weak we are. 

With best wishes to yourself and all dear to you, and 
sincere thanks for the interest you so kindly continue to 
take in me and my sister, — Believe me, my dear Miss 
Wooler, yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS • 

April i6th, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — Your kind advice on the subject of 
Homoeopathy deserves and has our best thanks. We find 
ourselves, however, urged from more than one quarter to 
try different systems and medicines, and I fear we have 
already given offence by not listening to all. The fact is, 
were we in every instance compliant, my dear sister would 
be harassed by continual changes. Cod-liver oil and 
carbonate of iron were first strongly recommended. Anne 
took them as long as she could, but at last she was obliged 
to give them up: the oil yielded her no nutriment, it did 
not arrest the progress of emaciation, and as it kept her 
always sick, she was prevented from taking food of any 
sort. Hydropathy was then strongly advised. She is 
now trying Gobold's Vegetable Balsam; she thinks it 
does her some good; and as it is the first medicine which 
has had that effect, she would wish to persevere with it 
for a time. She is also looking hopefully forw^ard to 
deriving benefit from change of air. We have obtained 
Mr. Teale's permission to go to the seaside in the course 
of six or eight weeks. At first I felt torn between two 
duties — that of staying with papa and going with Anne: 
but as it is papa's own most kindly expressed wish that I 
should adopt the latter plan, and as, besides, he is now, 
thank God! in tolerable health, I hope to be spared the 
pain of resigning the care of my sister to other hands, 

177 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

however friendly. We wish to keep together as long as 
we can. I hope^ too^ to derive from the change some 
renewal of physical strength and mental composure (in 
neither of which points am I what I ought or wish to be) 
to make me a better and more cheery nurse. 

I fear I must have seemed to you hard in my observa- 
tions about The Emigrant Family. The fact was^ I com- 
pared Alexander Harris with himself only. It is not equal 
to the Testimony to the Truth, but^ tried by the standard of 
other and very popular books too^ it is very clever and 
original. Both subject and the manner of treating it are 
unhackneyed: ,he gives new views of new scenes and 
furnishes interesting information on interesting topics. 
Considering the increasing necessity for and tendency to 
emigration, I should think it has a fair chance of securing 
the success it merits. 

I took up Leigh Hunt's book The Town with the im- 
pression that it would be interesting only to Londoners, 
and I was surprised, ere I had read many pag s, to find 
myself enchained by his pleasant, graceful, easy style, 
varied knowledge, just views, and kindly spirit. There is 
something peculiarly anti-melancholic in Leigh Hunt's 
writings, and yet they are never boisterous. They 
resemble sunshine, being at once bright and tranquil. 

I like Carlyle better and better. His style I do not like, 
nor do I always concur in his opinions, nor quite fall in 
with his hero worship; but there is a manly love of truth, 
an honest recognition and fearless vindication of intrinsic 
greatness, of intellectual and moral worth, considered 
apart from birth, rank, or wealth, which commands my 
sincere admiration. Carlyle would never do for a con- 
tributor to the Quarterly, I have not read his French 
Revolution. 

I congratulate you on the approaching publication of 
Mr. Ruskin's new work. If the Seven Lamps of Archi- 
tecture resemble the r predecessor. Modern Painters, they 
will be no lamps at all, but a new constellation — seven 
bright stars, for whose rising the reading world ought to 
be anxiously agaze. 

178 



Anne Bronte 

Do not ask me to mention what books I should like to 
read. Half the pleasure of receiving a parcel from Com- 
hill consists in having its contents chosen for us. We like 
to discover, too, by the leaves cut here and there, that 
the ground has been travelled before us. I may however 
say, with reference to works of fiction, that I should much 
like to see one of Godwin's works, never having hitherto 
had that pleasure — Caleb Williams or Fleetwood, or which 
you thought best worth reading. 

But it is yet much too soon to talk of sending more 
books; our present stock is scarcely half exhausted. You 
will perhaps think I am a slow reader, but remember, 
Currer Bell is a country housewife, and has sundry little 
matters connected with the needle and kitchen to attend 
to which take up half his day, especially now when, alas ! 
there is but one pair of hands where once there were three. 
I did not mean to touch that chord, its sound is too sad. 

I try to write now and then. The effort was a hard one 
at first. It renewed the terrible loss of last December 
strangely. Worse than useless did it seem to attempt to 
write what there no longer lived an " Ellis Bell '' to read; 
the whole book, with every hope founded on it, faded to 
vanity and vexation of spirit. 

One inducement to persevere and do my best I still 
have, however, and I am thankful for it: I should like to 
please my kind friends at Cornhill. To that end I wish 
my powers would come back; and if it would please 
Providence to restore my remaining sister, I think they 
would. 

Do not forget to tell me how you are when you write 
again. I trust your indisposition is quite gone by this 
time. — Believe me, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May 2othj 1849. 

Dear Ellen, — I returned MaryjTaylor's letter to Huns- 
worth as soon as I had read it. Thank God she was safe 

179 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

up to that time, but I do not think the earthquake was 
then over. I shall long to hear tidings of her again. 

Anne was worse during the warm weather we had about 
a week ago. She grew weaker^ and both the pain in her 
side and her cough were worse; strange to say, since it is 
colder, she has appeared rather to revive than sink. I 
still hope that if she gets over May she may last a long time. 

We have engaged lodgings at Scarbro'. We stipulated 
for a good-sized sitting-room and an airy double-bedded 
lodging room, with a sea view, and if not deceived, have 
obtained these desiderata at No. 2 Cliff. Anne says it is 
one of the best situations in the place. It would not have 
done to have taken lodgings either in the town or on the 
bleak steep coast, where Miss Wooler's house is situated. 
If Anne is to get any good she must have every advantage. 
Miss Outhwaite [her godmother] left her in her will a 
legacy of £200, and she cannot employ her money better 
than in obtaining what may prolong existence, if it does 
not restore health. We hope to leave home on the 23rd, 
and I think it will be advisable to rest at York, and stay 
all night there. I hope this arrangement will suit you. 
We reckon on your society, dear Ellen, as a real privilege 
and pleasure. We shall take little luggage, and shall have 
to buy bonnets and dresses and several other things either 
at York or Scarbro' ; which place do you think would be 
best? Oh, if it would please God to strengthen and revive 
Anne, how happy we might be together 1 His will, how- 
ever, must be done, and if she is not to recover, it remains 
to pray for strength and patience. C. B. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

May 8/A, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I hasten to acknowledge the two kind 
letters for which I am indebted to you. That fine spring 
weather of which you speak did not bring such happiness 
to us in its sunshine as I trust it did to you and thousands 
besides — the change proved trying to my sister. For a 
week or ten days I did not know what to think, she became 

180 



Anne Bronte 

so weak, and suffered so much from increased pain in the 
5ide^ and aggravated cough. The last few days have been 
much colder, yet, strange to say, during their continuance 
she has appeared rather to revive than sink. She not 
unfrequently shows the very same s\Tnptoms which were 
apparent in Emily only a few days before she died — fever 
in the evenings, sleepless nights, and a sort of letharg}' in 
the morning hours; this creates acute anxiety — then 
comes an improvement, which reassures. In about three 
weeks, should the weather be genial and her strength 
continue at all equal to the journey, we hope to go to 
Scarboro'. It is not without misgiving that I contemplate 
a departure from home under such circumstances: but 
since she herself earnestly wishes the experiment to be 
tried, I think it ought not to be neglected. We are in 
God's hands, and must trust the results to Him. An old 
school-fellow of mine, a tried and faithful friend, has 
volunteered to accompany us. I shall have the satis- 
faction of leaving papa to the attentions of t^'O servants 
equally tried and faithful. One of them is indeed now 
old and infirm, and unfit to stir much from her chair by 
the kitchen fireside: but the other is vounsf and active, 
and even she has hved with us seven years. I have reason, 
therefore, you see, to be thankful amidst sorrow, especially 
as papa still possesses every faculty unimpaired, and 
though not robust, has good general health — a sort of 
chronic cough is his sole complaint. 

I hope Mr. Smith will not risk a cheap edition of Jane 
Eyre yet, he had better wait awhile — the pubHc will be 
sick of the name of that one book. I can make no promise 
as to when another will be ready — neither my time nor 
my efforts are my own. That absorption in my employ- 
ment to which I gave myself up without fear of doing 
\ATong when I wTote Jaiie Eyre, would now be alike im- 
possible and blamable; but I do what I can, and have 
made some little progress. We must all be patient. 

Meantime, I should say, let the public forget at their 
ease, and let us not be nervous about it. And as to the 
critics, if the Bells possess real merit, I do not fear im- 

i8i 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

partial justice being rendered them one day. I have a 
very short mental as well as physical sight in some matters, 
and am far less uneasy at the idea of public impatience, 
misconstruction, censure, etc., than I am at the thought 
of the anxiety of those two or three friends in Comhill 
to whom I owe much kindness, and whose expectations 
I would earnestly wish not to disappoint. If they can 
make up their minds to wait tranquilly, and put some 
confidence in my goodwill, if not my power, to get on as 
well as may be, I shall not repine; but I verily believe 
that the '' nobler sex " find it more difficult to wait, to 
plod, to work out their destiny inch by inch, than their 
sisters do. They are always for walking so fast and taking 
such long steps, one cannot keep up with them. One 
should never tell a gentleman that one has commenced a 
task till it is nearly achieved. Currer Bell, even if he had 
no let or hindrance, and if his path were quite smooth, 
could never march with the tread of a Scott, a Bulwer, a 
Thackeray, or a Dickens. I want you and Mr. Smith 
clearly to understand this. I have always wished to guard 
you against exaggerated anticipations — calculate low 
when you calculate on me. An honest man — and woman 
too — would always rather rise above expectation than 
fall below it. 

Have I lectured enough? and am I understood.^ 
Give my sympathising respects to Mrs. WiUiams. I 
hope her little daughter is by this time restored to perfect 
health. It pleased me to see with what satisfaction you 
speak of your son. I was glad, too, to hear of the progress 
and welfare of Miss Kavanagh. The notices of Mr. 
Harris's works are encouraging and just — may they 
contribute to his succ ss ! 

Should Mr. Thackeray again ask after Currer Bell, say 
the secret is and will be well kept because it is not worth 
disclosure. This fact his own sagacity will have already 
led him to divine. In the hope that it may not be long 
ere I hear from you again, — Believe me, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 



182 



Anne Bronte 

TO MISS WOOLER 

Haworth^ May iSth, 1849. 

My dear Miss Wooler^ — I will lose no time in thanking 
you for your letter and kind offer of assistance. We have, 
however, alreadv ensfasred lodofins^s. I am not mvself 
acquainted with Scarbro'^ but Anne knows it well, having 
been there three or four times. She had a particular 
preference for the situation of some lodgings (No. 2 Cliff). 
We wTOte about them^ and finding them disengaged^ took 
them. Your information is^ notwithstanding^ valuable, 
should we find this place in any way ineligible. It is a 
satisfaction to be provided with directions for future use. 

Next Wednesday is the day fixed for our departure. 
Ellen Nussey accompanies us (by Anne's expressed wish). 
I could not refuse her societv, but I dared not urs^e her to 
go, for I have httle hope that the excursion will be one 
of pleasure or benefit to those engaged in it. Anne is 
extremely weak. She herseK has a fixed impression that 
the sea air will 2rive her a chance of re2:ainin2f strensrth; 
that chance, therefore, we must have. Having resolved 
to try the experiment, misgivings are useless: and yet, 
when I look at her, misgivings will rise. She is more 
emaciated than Emily was at the very last; her breath 
scarcely serves her to mount the stairs, however slowly. 
She sleeps very little at night, and often passes most of 
the forenoon in a semi-lethargic state. Still, she is up 
all day, and even goes out a httle when it is fine. Fresh 
air usually acts as a stimulus, but its reviving power 
diminishes. 

With best wishes for your own health and welfare, — 
BeHeve me, my dear Miss Wooler, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLI.AMS 

No. 2 Cliff, Scarboro', May 2jth, 1849. 

AIy dear Sir, — The date above will inform you why I 
have not answered your last letter more promptly. I 
have been busy with preparations for departure and with 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

the journey. I am thankful to say we reached our destina- 
tion safely, having rested one night at York. We found 
assistance wherever we needed it; there was always an 
arm ready to do for my sister what I was not quite strong 
enough to do: lift her in and out of the carriages, carry 
her across the line, etc. 

It made her happy to see both York and its Minster, and 
Scarboro' and its bay once more. There is yet no revival 
of bodily strength — I fear indeed the slow ebb continues. 
People who see her tell me I must not expect her to last 
long — but it is something to cheer her mind. 

Our lodgings are pleasant. As Anne sits at the window 
she can look down on the sea, which this morning is calm 
as glass. She says if she could breathe more freely she 
would be comfortable at this moment — but she cannot 
breathe freely. 

My friend Ellen is with us. I find her presence a solace. 
She is a calm, steady girl — not brilliant, but good and true. 
She suits and has always suited me well. I Hke her, with 
her phlegm, repose, sense, and sincerity, better than I 
should like the most talented without these qualifications. 

If ever I see you again I should have pleasure in talking 
over with you the topics you allude to in 3^our last — or 
rather, in hearing you talk them over. We see these things 
through a glass darkly — or at least I see them thus. So 
far from objecting to speculation on, or discussion of, the 
subject, I should wish to hear what others have to say. 
By others, I mean only the serious and reflective — levity 
in such matters shocks as much as hypocrisy. 

Write to me. In this strange place your letters will 
come like the visits of a friend. Fearing to lose the post, 
I will add no more at present. — Believe me, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

May T,othy 1849. 

My dear Sir, — My poor sister is taken quietly home at 
last. She died on Monday. With almost her last breath 
she said she was happy, and thanked God that death was 

184 



Anne Bronte 

come, and come so gently. I did not think it would be 
so soon. 

You will not expect me to add more at present. — Yours 
faithfully, C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

2 Cliff, Scarboro', June 4tk, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I hardly know what I said when I wrote 
last. I was then feverish and exhausted. I am now 
better and, I believe, quite clear. 

You have been informed of my dear sister Anne's death. 
Let me now add that she died without severe struggle, 
resigned, trusting in God — thankful for release from a 
suffering life — deeply assured that a better existence lay 
before her. She believed, she hoped — and declared her 
belief and hope with her last breath. Her quiet. Christian 
death did not rend my heart as Emily's stern, simple, 
undemonstrative end did. I let Anne 2:0 to God, and felt 
He had a right to her. I could hardly let Emily go. I 
wanted to hold her back then, and I want her back now. 
Anne, from her childhood, seemed preparing for an early 
death. Emily's spirit seemed strong enough to bear her 
to fulness of years. They are both gone, and so is poor 
Branwell, and Papa has now me only — the weakest, 
puniest, least promising of his six children. Consumption 
has taken the whole five. 

For the present Anne's ashes rest apart from the others. 
I have buried her here at Scarboro', to save Papa the 
anguish of the return and a third funeral. 

I am ordered to remain at the sea-side awhile. I 
cannot rest here, but neither can I go home. Possibly 
I may not write again soon — attribute my silence neither 
to idleness nor neghgence. No letters will find me at 
Scarboro' after the 7th. I do not know what my next 
address will be. I shall wander a week or two on the 
East Coast, and only stop at quiet lonely places. No one 
need be anxious about me as far as I know. Friends 
and acquaintance seem to think this the worst time of 

185 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

suffering. They are surely mistaken. Anne reposes now — 
what have the long desolate hours of her patient pain and 
fast decay been ? 

Why life is so blank^ brief^ and bitter I do not know. 
Why younger and far better than I are snatched from it 
with projects unfulfilled I cannot comprehend^ but I 
believe God is wise — perfect — merciful. 

I have heard from Papa. He and the servants knew 
when they parted from Anne they would see her no more. 
All tried to be resigned. I knew it likewise^ and I wanted 
her to die where she would be happiest. She loved 
Scarboro'. A peaceful sun gilded her evening. — ^Yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte.^ 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

June 2^th, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I am now again at home, where I re- 
turned last Thursday. I call it home still — much as 
London would be called London if an earthquake should 
shake its streets to ruins. But let me not be ungrateful: 
Haworth parsonage is still a home for me, and not quite 
a ruined or desolate home either. Papa is there, and two 
most affectionate and faithful servants, and two old dogs, 
in their way as faithful and affectionate — Emily's large 
house-dog which lay at the side of her dying bed, and 
followed her funeral to the vault, lying in the pew couched 
at our feet while the burial service was being read — and 
Anne's little spaniel. The ecstasy of these poor animals 
when I came in was something singular. At former 
returns from brief absences they always welcomed me 
warmly — but not in that strange, heart-touching way. 
I am certain they thought that, as I was returned, my 
sisters were not far behind. But here my sisters will 
come no more. Keeper may visit Emily's little bedroom 
— as he still does day by day — and Flossy may look 
wistfully round for Anne, they will never see them again — 
nor shall I — at least the human part of me. I must not 

* This letter, as in the case of many others, was not published 
in the earlier edition of this book, and has only just been found. 

186 



Anne Bronte 

write so sadly, but how can I help thinking and feeling 
sadly? In the daA-time effort and occupation aid me, 
but when evenins: darkens, somethinc^ in mv heart revolts 
against the burden of solitude — the sense of loss and want 
grows almost too much for mie. I am not good or amuable 
in such moments . I am rebelhous, and it is only the thought 
of my dear father in the next room^ or of the kind serv^ants 
in the kitchen^ or some caress from the poor dogs, which 
restores me to softer sentiments and more rational views. 
As to the night — could I do without bed^ I would never 
seek it. Wakings I think^ sleeping^ I dream of them; and 
I cannot recall them as they were in health, still they 
appear to me in sickness and suffering. Still, my nights 
were worse after the first shock of BranwelFs death — they 
were terrible then; and the impressions experienced on 
waking were at that time such as we do not put into 
language. Worse seemed at hand than was yet endured — 
in truth, worse awaited us. 

All this bitterness must be tasted. Perhaps the palate 
will grow used to the draught in tim.e, and find its flavour 
less acrid. This pain must be undergone: its poignancy, 
I trust, will be blunted one day. Ellen would have come 
back with me but I would not let her. I knew it would 
be better to face the desolation at once — later or sooner 
the sharp pang m^ust be experienced. 

Labour must be the cure, not sympathy. Labour is the 
only radical cure for rooted sorrow. The society of a calm, 
serenely cheerful companion — such as Ellen — soothes pain 
like a soft opiate, but I find it does not probe or heal the 
wound; sharper, more severe means, are necessary to 
make a remedy. Total change might do much; where 
that cannot be obtained, work is the best substitute. 

I by no means ask Miss Kavanagh to \^Tite to me. ^^lly 
should she trouble herself to do it ? What claim have I on 
her.^ She does not know me — she cannot care for me 
except vaguely and on hearsay. I have got used to your 
friendly s}'mpathy, and it comforts me. I have tried and 
trust the fidehty of one or two other friends, and I lean 
upon it. The natural afi'ection of my father and the 

187 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

attachment and solicitude of our two servants are precious 
and consolatory to me, but I do not look round for general 
pity; conventional condolence I do not want, either from 
man or woman. 

The letter you inclosed in your last bore the signature 
H. S. Mayers — the address, Sheepscombe, Stroud, 
Gloucestershire; can you give me any information re- 
specting the writer? It is my intention to acknowledge 
it one day. I am truly glad to hear that your little 
invalid is restored to health, and that the rest of your 
family continue well. Mrs. Williams should spare herself 
for her husband's and children's sake. Her life and 
health are too valuable to those round her to be lavished 
— she should be careful of them. — Believe me, yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte. 

It is not necessary to tell over again the story of Anne's 
death. Miss Ellen Nussey, who was an eye-witness, has 
related it once for all in Mrs. Gaskell's Memoir. The 
tomb at Scarborough bears the following inscription: — 

HERE LIE THE REMAINS OF 

ANNE BRONTE, 
DAUGHTER OF THE REV. P. BRONTE, 

INCUMBENT OF HAWORTH, YORKSHIRE. 

She Died, Aged 28, May 2-, 1849. 

The inscription on the stone is incorrect. Anne Bronte 
died, aged twenty-nine, May 28th, 1849. 



188 



CHAPTER VIII 

ELLEN NUSSEY 

If to be known by one's friends is the index to character 
that it is frequently assumed to be, Charlotte Bronte 
comes well out of that ordeal. She was discriminating 
in friendship and leal to the heart's core. With what 
gratitude she thought of the publisher who gave her the 
" first chance " we know by recognising that the manly 
Dr. John of Villette was Mr. George Smith of Smith & 
Elder. Mr. W. S. Williams, again, would seem to have 
been a singularly gifted and amiable man. To her three 
girl friends, Ellen Nussey, Mary Taylor, and Laetitia 
Wheelwright, she was loyal to her dying day, and 
pencilled letters to the two of them who were in England 
were written in her last illness. Of all her friends, Ellen 
Nussey must always have the foremost place in our 
esteem. Like Mary Taylor, she made Charlotte's 
acquaintance when, at fourteen years of age, she first went 
to Roe Head School. Mrs. Gaskell has sufficiently 
described the beginnings of that friendship which death 
was not to break. Ellen Nussey and Charlotte Bronte 
corresponded with a regularity which one imagines 
would be impossible had they both been bom half a 
century later. The two girls loved one another pro- 
foundly. They wrote at times almost daily. They 
quarrelled occasionally over trifles, as friends will, but 
Charlotte was always full of contrition when a few hours 
had passed. Towards the end of her life she wrote to 
Mr. Williams a letter concerning Miss Nussey which may 
well be printed here. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

January yd, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — I have to acknowledge the receipt of the 
Morning Chronicle with a good review, and of the Church 
of England Quarterly and the Westminster with bad ones. 
I have also to thank you for your letter, which would have 
been answered sooner had I been alone; but just now I am 

189 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

enjoying the treat of my friend Ellen's society^ and she 
makes me indolent and negligent — I am too busy talking 
to her all day to do anything else. You allude to the 
subject of female friendships, and express wonder at the 
infrequency of sincere attachments amongst women. As 
to married women, I can well understand that they should 
be absorbed in their husbands and children — but single 
women often like each other much, and derive great solace 
from their mutual regard. Friendship, however, is a 
plant which cannot be forced. True friendship is no 
gourd, springing in a night and withering in a day. When 
I first saw Ellen I did not care for her; we were school- 
fellows. In course of time we learnt each other's faults 
and good points. We were contrasts — still, we suited. 
Affection was first a germ, then a sapling, then a strong 
tree — now, no new friend, however lofty or profound in 
intellect — not even Miss Martineau herself — could be to 
me what Ellen is; yet she is no more than a conscientious, 
observant, calm, well-bred Yorkshire girl. She is without 
romance. If she attempts to read poetry, or poetic prose, 
aloud, I am irritated and deprive her of the book — if she 
talks of it, I stop my ears ; but she is good ; she[is true ; 
she is faithful, and I love her. 

Since I came home. Miss Martineau has written me a 
long and truly kindly letter. She invites me to visit her 
at Ambleside. I like the idea. Whether I can realise it 
or not, it is pleasant to have in prospect. 

You ask me to write to Mrs. Williams. I would rather 
she wrote to me first; and let her send any kind of letter 
she likes, without studying mood or manner. — Yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte. 

Good, True, Faithful — friendship has no sweeter words 
than these; and it was this loyalty in Miss Nussey 
which marked her out in our day as a fine type of sweet 
womanliness, and will secure to fier a lasting name as the 
friend of Charlotte Bronte. 

Miss Ellen Nussey was one of a large family of children, 
all of whom she survived. Her home during the years of 
her first friendship with Charlotte Bronte was at the 
Rydings, at that time the property of an uncle, Reuben 

190 



Ellen Nussey 



Walker, a distinguished court physician. The family 
in that generation and in this has given many of its 
members to high public service in various professions. 
Two Xusseys, indeed, and two Walkers, were court 
physicians in their day. WTien Earl Fitz^villiam was 
canvassing for the county in 1809, he was a guest at the 
Rydings for two weeks, and on his election was chaired 
by the tenantry. Reuben Walker, this uncle of Miss 
Nussey' s, was the only Justice of the Peace for the 
district which included Leeds, Bradford, Huddersfield, 
and Halifax, during the Luddite riots — a significant 
reminder of the gro\\i;h of population since that day. 
Ellen Nussey' s home was at the Rydings, then tenanted 
by her brother John, until 1837, and she then removed 
to Brookroyd, where she lived until long after Charlotte 
Bronte died. 

The first letter to Ellen Nussey is dated May 31, 1831, 
Charlotte having become her school-fellow in the previous 
Januar}^ It would seem to have been a mere play 
exercise across the school-room, as the girls were then 
together at Roe Head. 

Dear Miss Nussey^ — I take advantage of the earliest 
opportunity to thank you for the letter you favoured me 
with last week, and to apologise for having so long 
neglected to ^Tite to you; indeed, I believe this will be 
the first letter or note I have ever addressed to you. I 
am extremelv oblisred to Marv for her kind invitation, and 
I assure you that I should very much have liked to hear 
the Lectures on Galvanism, as they would doubtless have 
been amusing and instructive. But we are often com- 
pelled to bend our inclination to our duty (as Miss Wooler 
observed the other day), and since there are so many 
hohdays this half-year, it would have appeared almost 
unreasonable to ask for an extra holiday; besides, we 
should perhaps have got behindhand with our lessons, so 
that, ever}i:hing considered, it is perhaps as well that 
circumstances have deprived us of this pleasure. — Believe 
me to remain your aft'ectionate friend, C. Broxte. 

But by the Christmas holidays, '' Dear Miss Nussey '' 
has become '' Dear Ellen,'' and the friendship has 
already well commenced. 

191 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ January i^th, 1832. 

Dear Ellen, — The receipt of your letter gave me an 
agreeable surprise, for notwithstanding your faithful 
promises, you must excuse me if I say that I had little 
confidence in their fulfilment, knowing that when school 
girls once get home they willingly abandon every recol- 
lection which tends to remind them of school, and indeed 
they find such an infinite variety of circumstances to engage 
their attention and employ their leisure hours, that they 
are easily persuaded that they have no time to fulfil 
promises made at school. It gave me great pleasure, 
however, to find that you and Miss Taylor are exceptions 
to the general rule. The cholera still seems slowly ad- 
vancing, but let us yet hope, knowing that all things are 
under the guidance of a merciful Providence. England 
has hitherto been highly favoured, for the disease has 
neither raged with the astounding violence, nor extended 
itself with the frightful rapidity which marked its progress 
in many of the continental countries. — From your 
affectionate friend, Charlotte Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, January 1st, 1833. 

Dear Ellen, — I believe we agreed to correspond once 
a month. That space of time has now elapsed since I 
received your last interesting letter, and I now therefore 
hasten to reply. Accept my congratulations on the 
arrival of the New Year, every succeeding day of which 
will, I trust, find you wiser and better in the true sense of 
those much-used words. The first day of January always 
presents to my mind a train of very solemn and important 
reflections, and a question more easily asked than answered 
frequently occurs, viz. — How have I improved the past 
year, and with what good intentions do I view the dawn 
of its successor? These, my dearest Ellen, are weighty 
considerations which (young as we are) neither you nor 

192 



Ellen Nussey 



I can too deeply or too seriously ponder. I am sorry your 
too great diffidence^ arising^ I think, from the want of 
sufficient confidence in your own capabilities, prevented 
you from writing to me in French, as I think the attempt 
would have materially contributed to your improvement 
in that language. You very kindly caution me against 
being tempted by the fondness of my sisters to consider 
myself of too much importance, and then in a parenthesis 
you beg me not to be offended. Ellen, do you think I 
could be offended by any good advice you may give me ? 
No, I thank you heartily, and love you, if possible, better 
for it. I am glad you like Kenilworth, It is certainly a 
splendid production, more resembling a romance than a 
novel, and, in my opinion, one of the most interesting 
works that ever emanated from the great Sir Walter's 
pen. I was exceedingly amused at the characteristic and 
naive manner in which you expressed your detestation of 
Varney's character — so much so, indeed, that I could not 
forbear laughing aloud when I perused that part of your 
letter. He is certainly the personification of consummate 
villainy; and in the delineation of his dark and profoundly 
artful mind, Scott exhibits a wonderful knowledge of 
human nature as well as surprising skill in embodying his 
perceptions so as to enable others to become participators 
in that knowledge. Excuse the want of news in this very 
barren epistle, for I really have none to communicate. 
Emily and Anne beg to be kindly remembered to you. 
Give my best love to your mother and sisters, and as it is 
very late permit me to conclude with the assurance of my 
unchanged, unchanging, and unchangeable affection for 
you. — Adieu, my sweetest Ellen, I am ever yours, 

Charlotte. 

Here is a pleasant testimony to Miss Nussey's attrac- 
tions frpm Emily and Anne. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, September nth, 1833. 

Dear Ellen, — I have hitherto delayed answering your 

193 G 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

last letter because from what you said I ima.gined you 
might be from home. Since you were here Emily has been 
very ill. Her ailment was erysipelas in the arm, accom- 
panied by severe bilious attacks, and great general debility. 
Her arm was obliged to be cut in order to relieve it. It is 
now, I am happy to say, nearly healed — her health is, in 
fact, almost perfectly re-established. The sickness still 
continues to recur at intervals. Were I to tell you of the 
impression you have made on every one here you would 
accuse me of flattery. Papa and aunt are continually 
adducing you as an example for me to shape my actions 
and behaviour by. Emily and Anne say '' they never 
saw any one they liked so well as Miss Nussey," and Tabby 
talks a great deal more nonsense about you than I choose 
to report. You must read this letter, dear Ellen, without 
thinking of the writing, for I have indited it almost all in 
the twilight. It is now so dark that, notwithstanding the 
singular property of '* seeing in the night-time " which 
the young ladies at Roe Head used to attribute to me, I 
can scribble no longer. All the family unite with me in 
wishes for your welfare. Remember me respectfully to 
your mother and sisters, and supply all those expressions 
of warm and genuine regard which the increasing darkness 
will not permit me to insert. Charlotte Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, February nth, 1834. 

Dear Ellen, — My letters are scarcely worth the post- 
age, and therefore I have, till now, delayed answering your 
last communication; but upwards of two months having 
elapsed since I received it, I have at length determined 
to take up my pen in reply lest your anger should be 
roused by my apparent negligence. It grieved me ex- 
tremely to hear of your precarious state of health. I trust 
sincerely that your medical adviser is mistaken in suppos- 
ing you have any tendency to a pulmonary affection. 
Dear Ellen, that would indeed be a calamity. I have seen 
enough of consumption to dread it as one of the most 

194 



Ellen Nussey 



insidious and fatal diseases incident to humanity. But I 
repeat it^ I hope, nay pray, that your alarm is groundless. 
If you remember, I used frequently to tell you at school 
that you were constitutionally nervous — guard against the 
gloomy impressions which such a state of mind naturally 
produces. Take constant and regular exercise, and all, I 
doubt not, will yet be well. What a remarkable winter 
we have had ! Rain and wind continually, but an almost 
total absence of frost and snow. Has general ill health 
been the consequence of wet weather at Birstall or not.^ 
With us an unusual number of deaths have lately taken 
place. According to custom I have no news to com- 
municate, indeed I do not write either to retail gossip or 
to impart solid information; my motives for maintaining 
our mutual correspondence are, in the first place, to get 
intelligence from you, and in the second that we may re- 
mind each other of our separate existences ; without some 
such medium of reciprocal converse, according to the nature 
of things, you, who are surrounded by society and friends, 
would soon forget that such an insignificant being as 
myself ever lived. /, however, in the solitude of our wild 
little hill village, think of my only unrelated friend, my 
dear ci-devant school companion daily — nay, almost 
hourly. Now Ellen, don't you think I have very cleverly 
contrived to make up a letter out of nothing ? Good-bye, 
dearest. That God may bless you is the earnest prayer of 
your ever faithful friend, Charlotte Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, November loth, 1834. 

Dear Ellen, — I have been a long while, a very long 
while without writing to you. A letter I received from 
Mary Taylor this morning reminded me of my neglect, 
and made me instantly sit down to atone for it, if possible. 
She tells me your aunt, of Brookroyd, is dead, and that 
Sarah is very ill; for this I am truly sorry, but I hope her 
case is not yet without hope. You should however 
remember that death, should it happen, will undoubtedly 

195 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

be great gain to her. In your last, dear Ellen, you ask 
my opinion respecting the amusement of dancing, and 
whether I thought it objectionable when indulged in for 
an hour or two in parties of boys and girls. I should 
hesitate to express a difference of opinion from Mr 
Atkinson, but really the matter seems to me to stand 
thus: It is allowed on all hands that the sin of dancing 
consists not in the mere action of shaking the shanks (as 
the Scotch say), but in the consequences that usually 
attend it — namely, frivohty and waste of time; when it 
is used only, as in the case you state, for the exercise and 
amusement of an hour among young people (who surely 
may without any breach of God's commandments be 
allowed a little light-heartedness), these consequences 
cannot follow. Ergo (according to my manner of arguing) 
the amusement is at such times perfectly innocent. 
Having nothing more to say, I will conclude with the 
expression of my sincere and earnest attachment for, 
Ellen, your own dear self. Charlotte Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, January 12th, 1835. 

Dearest Ellen, — I thought it better not to answer 
your kind letter too soon, lest I should (in the present fully 
occupied state of your time) appear intrusive. I am 
happy to inform you papa has given me permission to 
accept the invitation it conveyed, and ere long I hope once 
more to have the pleasure of seeing almost the only and 
certainly the dearest friend I possess (out of our own 
family). I leave it to you to fix the time, only requesting 
you not to appoint too early a day; let it be a fortnight 
or three weeks at least from the date of the present letter. 
I am greatly obliged to you for your kind offer of meeting 
me at Bradford, but papa thinks that such a plan would 
involve uncertainty, and be productive of trouble to you. 
He recommends that I should go direct in a gig from 
Haworth at the time you shall determine, or, if that day 
should prove unfavourable, the first subsequent fine one. 

196 



Ellen Nussey 



Such an arrangement would leave us both free^ and if it 
meets with your approbation would perhaps be the best 
we could finally resolve upon. Excuse the brevity of this 
epistle, dear Ellen, for I am in a great hurry, and we shall, 
I trust, soon see each other face to face, which will be 
better than a hundred letters. Give my respectful love 
to your mother and sisters, accept the kind remembrances 
of all our family, and — Believe me in particular to be, your 
firm and faithful friend, Charlotte Bronte. 

P.S. — You ask me to stay a month when I come, but as 
I do not wish to tire you with my company, and as, 
besides, papa and aunt both think a fortnight amply 
sufficient, I shall not exceed that period. Farewell, 
dearest, dearest, 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Roe Head, 1835. 

My dear Ellen, — ^You are far too kind and frequent in 
your invitations. You puzzle me: I hardly know how 
to refuse, and it is still more embarrassing to accept. At 
any rate, I cannot come this week, for we are in the very 
thickest melee of the repetitions ; I was hearing the terrible 
fifth section when your note arrived. But Miss Wooler 
says I must go to Gomersall next Friday as she promised 
for me on Whitsunday; and on Sunday morning I will 
join you at church, if it be convenient, and stay at 
Rydings till Monday morning. There's a free and easy 
proposal ! Miss Wooler has driven me to it — she says her 
character is implicated ! I am very sorry to hear that your 
mother has been ill. I do hope she is better now, and that 
all the rest of the family are well. Will you be so kind as 
to deliver the accompanying note to Miss Taylor when you 
see her at church on Sunday? Dear Ellen, excuse the 
most horrid scrawl ever penned by mortal hands. Re- 
member me to your mother and sisters, and — Believe me, 
E. Nussey's friend, Charlotte. 



197 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

February 20th, 1837. 

I read your letter with dismay, Ellen — what shall I do 
without you? Why are we so to be denied each other's 
society? It is an inscrutable fatality. I long to be with 
you because it seems as if two or three days or weeks spent 
in your company would beyond measure strengthen me 
in the enjoyment of those feelings which I have so lately 
begun to cherish. You first pointed out to me that way 
in which I am so feebly endeavouring to travel, and now 
I cannot keep you by my side, I must proceed sorrowfully 
alone. 

Why are we to be divided? Surely, Ellen, it must be 
because we are in danger of loving each other too well — of 
losing sight of the Creator in idolatry of the creature. At 
first I could not say, " Thy will be done." I felt re- 
bellious; but I know it was wrong to feel so. Being left 
a moment alone this morning I prayed fervently to be 
enabled to resign myself to every decree of God's will — 
though it should be dealt forth with a far severer hand than 
the present disappointment. Since then, I have felt calmer 
and humbler — and consequently happier. Last Sunday 
I took up my Bible in a gloomy frame of mind; I began 
to read ; a feeling stole over me such as I have not known 
for many long years — a sweet placid sensation like those 
that I remember used to visit me when I was a little 
child, and on Sunday evenings in summer stood by the 
open window reading the life of a certain French nobleman 
who attained a purer and higher degree of sanctity than 
has been known since the days of the early Martyrs. I 
thought of my own Ellen — I wished she had been near me 
that I might have told her how happy I was, how bright 
and glorious the pages of God's holy word seemed to me. 
But the ^'' foretaste " passed away, and earth and sin re- 
turned. I must see you before you go, Ellen; if you 
cannot come to Roe Head I will contrive to walk over to 
Brookroyd, provided you will let me know the time of 
your departure. Should you not be at home at Easter 

198 



Ellen Nussey 



I dare not promise to accept your mother's and sisters' 
invitation. I should be miserable at Brookroyd without 
yoU; yet I would contrive to visit them for a few hours if 
I could not for a few days. I love them for your sake. I 
have written this note at a venture. When it will reach 
you I know not^ but I was determined not to let slip an 
opportunity for want of being prepared to embrace it. 
Farewell^ may God bestow on 3'Ou all His blessings. My 
darling — Farewell. Perhaps you may return before mid- 
summer — do you think you possibly can.^ I wish your 
brother John knew how unhappy I am; he would almost 
pity me. C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ja7iiiary 12th, 1839. 

My dear kind Ellen^ — I can hardly help laughing when 
I reckon up the number of urgent invitations I have re- 
ceived from you during the last three months. Had I 
accepted all or even half of them^ the Birstallians would 
certainly have concluded that I had come to make Brook- 
royd my permanent residence. When you set your mind 
upon it^ you have a peculiar way of edging one in with a 
circle of dilemmas^ so that they hardly know how to 
refuse you ; however^ I shall take a running leap and clear 
them all. Frankly^ my dear Ellen, I cannot come. Re- 
flect for yourself a moment. Do you see nothing absurd 
in the idea of a person coming again into a neighbourhood 
within a month after they have taken a solemn and formal 
leave of all their acquaintance? However^ I thank both 
you and your mother for the invitation^ which was most 
kindly expressed. You give no answer to my proposal 
that you should come to Haworth with the Taylors. I 
still think it would be your best plan. I wish you and the 
Taylors were safely here; there is no pleasure to be had 
without toiling for it. You must invite me no more^ my 
dear Ellen, until next Midsummer at the nearest. All 
here desire to be remembered to you, aunt particularly. 
Angry though you are, I will venture to sign myself as usual 

199 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

(no^ not as usual, but as suits circumstances). — ^Yours, 
under a cloud, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May 5th, 1838. 

My dearest Ellen, — Yesterday I heard that you were 
ill. Mr. and Miss Heald were at Dewsbury Moor, and it 
was from them I obtained the information. This morning 
I set off to Brookroyd to learn further particulars, from 
whence I am but just returned. Your mother is in great 
distress about you, she can hardly mention your name 
without tears; and both she and Mercy wish very much 
to see you at home again. Poor girl, you have been a 
fortnight confined to your bed; and while I was blaming 
you in my own mind for not writing, you w^ere suffering in 
sickness without one kind female friend to watch over you. 
I should have heard all this before and have hastened to 
express my sympathy with you in this crisis had I been 
able to visit Brookroyd in the Easter holidays, but an 
unexpected summons back to Dewsbury Moor, in con- 
sequence of the illness and death of Mr. Wooler, prevented 
it. Since that time I have been a fortnight and two days 
quite alone. Miss Wooler being detained in the interim at 
Rouse Mill. You will now see, Ellen, that it was not 
neglect or failure of affection which has occasioned my 
silence, though I fear you will long ago have attributed it 
to those causes. If you are well enough, do wTite to me 
just two lines — just to assure me of your convalescence; 
not a word, however, if it would harm you — not a syllable. 
They value you at home. Sickness and absence call forth 
expressions of attachment which might have remained 
long enough unspoken if their object had been present and 
well. I wish your friends (I include myself in that word) 
may soon cease to have cause for so painful an excitement 
of their regard. As yet I have but an imperfect idea of 
the nature of your illness — of its extent — or of the degree 
in which it may now have subsided. When you can let 
me know all, no particular, however minute, will be 
uninteresting to me. How have your spirits been.^ I 

200 



Ellen Nussey 



trust not much overclouded^ for that is the most melan- 
choly result of illness. You are not, I understand, going 
to Bath at present; they seem to have arranged matters 
strangely. When I parted from you near White-lee Bar, 
I had a more sorrowful feeling than ever I experienced 
before in our temporary separations. It is foolish to 
dwell too much on the idea of presentiments, but I 
certainly had a feeling that the time of our reunion had 
never been so indefinite or so distant as then. I doubt 
not, my dear Ellen, that amidst your many trials, amidst 
the sufferings that you have of late felt in yourself, and 
seen in several of your relations, you have still been able 
to look up and find support in trial, consolation in afflic- 
tion, and repose in tumult, where human interference can 
make no change. I think you know in the right spirit 
how to withdraw yourself from the vexation, the care, the 
meanness of life, and to derive comfort from purer sources 
than this world can afford. You know how to do it 
silently, unknown to others, and can avail yourself of that 
hallowed communion the Bible gives us with God. I am 
charged to transmit your mother's and sister's love. 
Receive mine in the same parcel, I think it will scarcely 
be the smallest share. Farewell, my dear Ellen. 

C. Bronte, 

Here is the only glimpse that we find of her Penzance 
relatives in these later years. They would seem to have 
visited Haworth when Charlotte was twenty-four years 
of age. The impression they left was not a kindly one. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

August 14th, 1840. 

My dear Ellen, — As you only sent me a note, I shall 
only send you one, and that not out of revenge, but because 
like you I have but little to say. The freshest news in our 
house is that we had, a fortnight ago, a visit from some of 
our South of England relations, John Branwell and his 
wife and daughter. They have been staying above a 
month with Uncle Fennell at Cross tone. They reckon to 

201 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

be very grand folks indeed, and talk largely — I thought 
assumingly. I cannot say I much admired them. To 
my eyes there seemed to be an attempt to play the great 
Mogul down in Yorkshire. Mr. Branwell was much less 
assuming than the womenites; he seemed a frank, saga- 
cious kind of man, very tall and vigorous, with a keen 
active look. The moment he saw me he exclaimed that I 
was the very image of my aunt Charlotte. Mrs. Bran- 
well set up for being a woman of great talent, tact, and 
accomplishment. I thought there was much more noise 
than work. My cousin Eliza is a young lady intended by 
nature to be a bouncing, good-looking girl — art has trained 
her to be a languishing, affected piece of goods. I would 
have been friendly with her, but I could get no talk except 
about the Low Church, Evangelical clergy, the Millennium, 
Baptist Noel, botany, and her own conversion. A mis- 
taken education has utterly spoiled the lass. Her face 
tells that she is naturally good-natured, though perhaps 
indolent. Her affectations were so utterly out of keeping 
with her round rosy face and tall bouncing figure, I could 
hardly refrain from laughing as I watched her. Write 
a long letter next time and Til write you ditto. Good-bye. 

We have already read the letters which were written 
to Miss Nussey during the governess period, and from 
Brussels. On her final return from Brussels, Charlotte 
implores a letter. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, February loth, 1844. 

Dear Ellen, — I 'cannot tell what occupies your 
thoughts and time. Are you ill.^ Is some one of your 
family ill? Are you married? Are you dead? If it be 
so, you may as well write a word and let me know — for 
my part, I am again in old England. I shall tell you 
nothing further till you write to me. C. Bronte. 

Write to me directly, that is a good girl; I feel really 
anxious, and have felt so for a long time to hear from you. 

202 



Ellen Nussey 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

June gthj 1844. 

My dear Ellen^ — Anne and Branwell are now at home^ 
and they and Emily add their request to mine^ that you 
will join us at the beginning of next week. Write and let 
us know what day you will come^ and how — if by coach, 
we will meet you at Keighley. Do not let your visit be 
later than the beginning of next week, or you will see little 
of Anne and Branwell as their holidays are very short. 
They will soon have to join the family at Scarborough. 
Remember me kindly to your mother and sisters. I hope 
they are all well. C. B. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

November 14th, 1844. 

Dear Ellen, — Your letter came very apropos, as, 
indeed, your letters always do; but this morning I had 
something of a headache, and was consequently rather out 
of spirits, and the epistle (scarcely legible though it be — 
excuse a rub) cheered me. In order to evince my grati- 
tude, as well as to please my o^^^l inclination, I sit dovra 
to answer it immediately. I am glad, in the first place, 
to hear that your brother is going to be married, and still 
more so to learn that his wife-elect has a handsome 
fortune — not that I advocate marrvin^ for monev in 
general, but I think in many cases (and this is one) money 
is a very desirable contingent of matrimony. 

I wonder when Mary Taylor is expected in England. I 
trust you will be at home while she is at Hunsworth, and 
that you, she, and I, may meet again somewhere under 
the canopy of heaven. I cannot, dear Ellen, make any 
promise about myself and Aime going to Brookroyd at 
Christmas; her vacations are so short she would grudge 
spending any part of them from home. 

The catastrophe, which you related so calmly, about 
your book-muslin dress, lace bertha, etc., con\Tilsed me 
with cold shudderings of horror. You have reason to 

203 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

curse the day when so fatal a present was offered you as 
that infamous httle " varmint." The perfect serenity with 
which you endured the disaster proves most fully to me 
that you would make the best wife^ mother, and mistress 
in the world. You and Anne are a pair for marvellous 
philosophical powers of endurance; no spoilt dinners, 
scorched linen, dirtied carpets, torn sofa-covers, squealing 
brats, cross husbands, would ever discompose either of 
you. You ought never to marry a good-tempered man, 
it would be mingling honey with sugar, like sticking white 
roses upon a black-thorn cudgel. With this very pic- 
turesque metaphor I close my letter. Good-bye, and 
write very soon. C. Bronte. 

Much has been said concerning Charlotte Bronte's 
visit to Hathersage in Derbyshire, and it is interesting 
because of the fact that Miss Bronte obtained the name 
of *' Eyre " from a family in that neighbourhood, and 
Morton in Jane Eyre may obviously be identified with 
Hathersage.^ Miss Ellen Nussey's brother Henry be- 
came Vicar of Hathersage, and he married shortly after- 
wards. While he was on his honeymoon his sister went 
to Hathersage to keep house for him, and she invited 
her friend Charlotte Bronte to stay with her. The 
visit lasted three weeks. This was the only occasion 
that Charlotte visited Hathersage. Here are two or 
three short notes referring to that visit. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

June 24th, 1845. 

Dear Ellen, — It is very vexatious for you to have had 
to go to Sheffield in vain. I am glad to hear that there is 
an omnibus on Thursday, and I have told Emily and Anne 
I will try to come on that day. The opening of the rail- 

^ In Hathersage Church is the altar tomb of Robert Eyre who 
fought at Agincourt and died on May 21, 1459, also of his wife 
Joan Eyre who died on May 9, 1464. This Joan Eyre was heiress 
of the house of Padley, and brought the Padley estates into the 
Eyre family. There is a Sanctus bell of the fifteenth century with 
a Latin inscription, " Pray for the souls of Robert Eyre and Joan 
his wife." — Rev. Thomas Key worth on " Morton Village and Jane 
Eyre " — a paper read before the Bronte Society at Keighley, 1895 

204 



Ellen Nussey 



road is now postponed till July 7th. I should not like to 
put you ofi again^ and for that and some other reasons 
they have decided to give up the idea of going to Scarbro'^ 
and' instead, to make a little excursion next Monday and 
Tuesday^ to Ilkley or elsewhere. I hope no other obstacle 
will arise to prevent my going to Hathersage. I do long 
to be with you, and I feel nervously afraid of being pre- 
vented^ or put ofi in some way. Branwell only stayed a 
week with us^ but he is to come home again when the 
family go to Scarboro'. I will ^\Tite to Brookroyd 
directly. Yesterday I had a little note from Henry 
inviting me to go to see you. This is one of your con- 
trivances^ for which you deserve smothering. You have 
WTitten to Henr\' to tell him to wTite to me. Do you 
think I stood on ceremony about the matter? 

The French papers have ceased to come. Good-bye 
for the present. C. B. 

TO MRS. NUSSEY 

July 2yd, 1845. 

My dear Mrs. Nussey^ — I lose no time after my return 
home in ^Titing to you and offering you my sincere thanks 
for the kindness with which you have repeatedly invited 
me to go and stay a few days at Brookroyd. It would 
have given me great pleasure to have gone, had it been only 
for a day^ just to have seen you and Miss Mercy (Miss 
Nussey I suppose is not at home) and to have been intro- 
duced to Mrs. Henry, but I have stayed so long with Ellen 
at Hathersage that I could not possibly now go to Brook- 
royd. I was expected at home; and after all Jiome should 
always have the first claim on our attention. ^Mlen I 
reached home (at ten o'clock on Saturday night) I found 
papa, I am thankful to say, pretty well, but he thought 
I had been a long time away. 

I left Ellen well, and she had generally good health 
while I stayed with her, but she is very anxious about 
matters of business, and apprehensive lest things should 
not be comfortable against the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. 

20; 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Henry — she is so desirous that the day of their arrival at 
Hathersage should be a happy one to both. 

I hope, my dear Mrs. Nussey, you are well; and I should 
be very happy to receive a little note either from you or 
from Miss Mercy to assure me of this. — Believe me^ yours 
affectionately and sincerely^ C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

July 24th, 1846. 

Dear Ellen^ — A series of toothaches, prolonged and 
severe, bothering me both day and night, have kept me 
very stupid of late, and prevented me from writing to you. 
More than once I have sat down and opened my desk, but 
have not been able to get up to par. To-day, after a 
night of fierce pain, I am better — much better, and I take 
advantage of the interval of ease to discharge my debt. 
I wish I had £50 to spare at present, and that you, Emily, 
Anne, and I were all at liberty to leave home without our 
absence being detrimental to any body. How pleasant 
to set off en masse to the seaside, and stay there a few 
weeks, taking in a stock of health and strength. — We 
could all do with recreation. Adversity agrees with you, 
Ellen. Your good qualities are never so obvious as w^hen 
under the pressure of affliction. Continued prosperity 
might develope too much a certain germ of ambition 
latent in your character. I saw this little germ putting 
out green shoots when I was staying with you at Hather- 
sage. It was not then obtrusive, and perhaps might 
never become so. Your good sense, firm principle, and 
kind feeling might keep it down. Holding down my head 
does not suit my toothache. Give my love to your 
mother and sisters. Write again as soon as may be. — 
Yours faithfully, C, B. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

December 14th j 1845. 

Dear Ellen. — I was glad to get your last note, though 
it was so short and crusty. Three weeks had elapsed 

206 



Ellen Nussey 



without my having heard a word from you, and I began 
to fear some new misfortune had occurred. I was reHeved 
to find such was not the case, xlnne is obHged by the 
kind regret you express at not being able to ask her to 
Brookroyd. She wishes you could come to Haworth. 
Do you scold me out of habit, or are you really angry? 
In either case it is all nonsense. You know as well as I 
do that to go to Brookroyd is always a pleasure to me, 
and that to one who has so little change, and so few 
friends as I have, it must be a great pleasure , but I am not 
at all times in the mood or circumstances to take my 
pleasure. I wish so much to see you, that I shall certainly 
sometime after New Year's Da}^, if all be well, be going 
over to Birstall. Now I could not go if I would. If you 
think I stand upon ceremony in this matter, you mis- 
calculate sadly. I have known you, and your mother and 
sisters, too long to be ceremonious with any of you. 
Invite me no more now, till I invite myself — be too proud 
to trouble yourself; and if, when at last I mention coming 
(for I shall give you warning), it does not happen to suit 
you, tell me so, with quiet hauteur. I should Like a long 
letter next time. No more lovers' quarrels. 
Good-bye. Best love to your mother and sisters. 

C. B. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

February Sthj 1847. 

Dear Ellen, — Long may you look young and hand- 
some enough to dress in white, dear, and long may you 
have a right to feel the consciousness that you look agree- 
able. I know you have too much judgment to let an 
over-dose of vanity spoil the blessing and turn it into a 
misfortune. After all though, age will come on, and it is 
well you have something better than a nice face for friends 
to turn to when that is changed. I hope this excessively 
cold weather has not harmed you or yours much. It has 
nipped me severely, taken away my appetite for a while 
and given me toothache; in short, put me in the ailing 
condition, in which I have more than once had the honour 

207 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

of making myself such a nuisance both at Brookroyd and 
Hunsworth. The consequence is that at this present 
speaking I look almost old enough to be your mother — 
grey, sunk, and withered. To-day, however, it is milder, 
and I hope soon to feel better; indeed I am not ill now, 
and my toothache is now subsided, but I experience a loss 
of strength and a deficiency of spirit which would make 
me a sorry companion to you or any one else. I would 
not be on a visit now for a large sum of money. 

Write soon. Give my best love to your mother and 
sisters. — Good-bye, dear Nell, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April 2istj 1847. 

Dear Nell, — I am very much obliged to you for your 
gift, which you must not undervalue, for I like the articles ; 
they look extremely pretty and light. They are for wrist 
frills, are they not.^ Will you condescend to accept a 
yard of lace made up into nothing? I thought I would 
not offer to spoil it by stitching it into any shape. Your 
creative fingers will turn it to better account than my 
destructive ones. I hope, such as it is, they will not peck 
it out of the envelope at the Bradford Post-office, where 
they generally take the liberty of opening letters when 
they feel soft as if they contained articles. I had for- 
gotten all about your birthday and mine, till your letter 
arrived to remind me of it. I wish you many happy 
returns of yours. Of course your visit to Haworth must 
be regulated by Miss Ringrose's movements. I was rather 
amused at your fearing I should be jealous. I never 
thought of it. She and I could not be rivals in your 
affections. You allot her, I know, a different set of feel- 
ings to what you allot me. She is amiable and estimable, 
I am not amiable, but still we shall stick to the last I 
don't doubt. In short, I should as soon think of being 
jealous of Emily and Anne in these days as of you. If 
Miss Ringrose does not come to Brookroyd about Whit- 
suntide, I should like you to come. I shall feel a good 

208 



Ellen Nussey 



deal disappointed if the visit is put off — I would rather 
Miss Ringrose fixed her time in summer^ and then I would 
come to see you (d.v.) in the autumn. I don't think it 
will be at all a good plan to go back with you. We see 
each other so seldom^ that I would far rather divide the 
visits. Remember me to all. — Yours faithfully, 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May 2^thy 1847. 

Dear Nell^ — I have a small present for Mercy. You 
must fetch it, for I repeat you shall come to Haworth before 
I go to Brookroyd, 

I do not say this from pique or anger — I am not angry 
now — but because my leaving home at present would from 
solid reasons be difficult to manage. If all be well I will 
visit you in the autumn, at present I cannot come. Be 
assured that if I could come I should, after your last letter, 
put scruples and pride away and ^' go over into Macedonia " 
at once. I never could manage to help you yet. You 
have always found me something like a new servant, who 
requires to be told where everything is, and shown how 
everything is to be done. 

My sincere love to your mother and Mercy. — Yours, 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April 22ndy 1848. 

Dear Ellen, — I have just received your little parcel, 
and beg to thank you in all our names for its contents, and 
also for your letter, of the arrival of which I was, to speak 
truth, getting rather impatient. 

The housewife's travelling companion is a most com- 
modious thing — just the sort of article which suits one to 
a T, and which yet I should never have the courage or 
industry to sit down and make for myself. I shall keep 
it for occasions of going from home, it will save me a world 
of trouble. It must have required some thought to 

209 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

arrange the various compartments and their contents so 
aptly. I had quite forgotten till your letter reminded me 
that it was the anniversary of your birthday and mine. 
I am now thirty-two. Youth is gone — gone — and will 
never come back; can't help it. I wish you many re- 
turns of your birthday and increase of happiness with 
increase of years. It seems to me that sorrow must come 
sometime to everybody^ and those who scarcely taste it 
in their youth often have a more brimming and bitter cup 
to drain in after-life; whereas^ those who exhaust the 
dregs early, who drink the lees before the wine, may 
reasonably expect a purer and more palatable draught to 
succeed. So, at least, one fain would hope. It touched 
me at first a little painfully to hear of your purposed 
governessing, but on second thoughts I discovered this 
to be quite a foolish feeling. You are doing right even 
though you should not gain much. The effort will do you 
good; no one ever does regret a step towards self-help ; it 
is so much gained in independence. 

Give my love to your mother and sisters. — Yours 
faithfully^ C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May 24th, 1848. 

Dear Ellen, — I shall begin by telling you that you 
have no right to be angry at the length of time I have 
suffered to shp by since receiving your last, without 
answering it, because you have often kept me waiting 
much longer; and having made this gracious speech, 
thereby obviating reproaches, I will add that I think it a 
great shame when you receive a long and thoroughly 
interesting letter, full of the sort of details you fully relish, 
to read the same with selfish pleasure and not even have 
the manners to thank your correspondent, and express 
how much you enjoyed the narrative. I did enjoy the 
narrative in your last very keenly; the exquisitely 
characteristic traits concerning the Bakers were worth 
gold; just like not only them but all their class — respect- 
able, well-meaning people enough, but with all that petty 

210 



Ellen Nussey 



assumption of dignity, that small jealousy of senseless 
formalities, which to such people seems to form a second 
religion. Your position amongst them was detestable. 
I admire the philosophy with which you bore it. Their 
taking offence because you stayed all night at their aunt's 
is rich. It is right not to think much of casual attentions ; 
it is quite justifiable also to derive from them temporary 
gratification, insomuch as they prove that their object has 
the power of pleasing. Let them be as ephemera — to last 
an hour, and not be regretted w^hen gone. 

Write to me again soon and — Believe me, yours faith- 
fully, ' C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

August 2yd y 1849. 

Dear Ellen, — Papa has not been well at all lately — he 
has had another attack of bronchitis. I felt very uneasy 
about him for some days, more wretched indeed than I 
care to tell you. After what has happened, one trembles 
at any appearance of sickness, and when anything ails 
papa I feel too keenly that he is the last, the only near and 
dear relation I have in the world. Yesterday and to-day 
he has seemed much better, for which I am truly thankful. 

For myself, I should be pretty well but for a continually 
recurring feeling of slight cold, slight soreness in the throat 
and chest, of which, do what I will, I cannot quite get rid. 
Has your cough entirely left you } I wish the atmosphere 
would return to a salubrious condition, for I really think 
it is not healthy. English cholera has been very prevalent 
here. 

I do wish to see you. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

August 16th, 1850. 

Dear Nell, — I am going on Monday (d;V.) a journey, 
whereof the prospect cheers me not at all, to Windermere, 
in Westmoreland, to spend a few^ days with Sir J. K. S., who 
has taken a house there for the autumn and winter. I 

211 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

consented to go with reluctance, chiefly to please papa, 
whom a refusal on my part would have much annoyed; 
but I dislike to leave him. I trust he is not worse, but 
his complaint is still weakness. It is not right to anticipate 
evil, and to be always looking forward in an apprehensive 
spirit; but I think grief is a two-edged sword — it cuts 
both ways: the memory of one loss is the anticipation 
of another. Take moderate exercise and be careful, dear 
Nell, and — Beheve me, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May lothj 1851. 

Dear Nell, — Poor little Flossy! I have not yet 
screwed up nerve to tell papa about her fate, it seems to 
me so piteous. However, she had a happy life with a 
kind mistress, whatever her death has been. Little 
hapless plague! She had more goodness and patience 
shown her than she deserved, I fear. C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, July 26/A, 1852. 

Dear Ellen, — I should not have written to you to-day 
by choice. Lately I have again been harassed with head- 
ache — the heavy electric atmosphere oppresses me much, 
yet I am less miserable just now than I was a little while 
ago. A severe shock came upon me about papa. He was 
suddenly attacked with acute inflammation of the eye. 
Mr. Ruddock was sent for; and after he had examined 
him, he called me into another room, and said papa's 
pulse was bounding at 150 per minute, that there was a 
strong pressure of blood upon the brain, that, in short, 
the symptoms were decidedly apoplectic. 

Active measures were immediately taken. By the next 
day the pulse was reduced to ninety. Thank God he is 
now better, though not well. The eye is a good deal 
inflamed. He does not know his state. To tell him he 
had been in danger of apoplexy would almost be to kill 

212 



Ellen Nussey 



him at once — it would increase the rush to the brain and 
perhaps bring about rupture. He is kept very quiet. 

Dear Nell^ you will excuse a short note. Write again 
soon. Tell me all concerning yourself that can relieve 
you. — ^Yours faithfully^ C. B. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

August ;^rdj 1852. 

Dear Ellen^ — I write a line to say that papa is now 
considered out of danger. His progress to health is not 
without relapse^ but I think he gains ground, if slowly, 
surely. Mr. Ruddock says the seizure was quite of an 
apoplectic character; there was a partial paralysis for 
two days, but the mind remained clear, in spite of a 
high degree of nervous irritation. One eye still remains 
inflamed, and papa is weak, but all muscular affection 
is gone, and the pulse is accurate. One cannot be too 
thankful that papa's sight is yet spared — it was the fear 
of losing that which chiefly distressed him. 

With best wishes for yourself, dear Ellen, — I am, yours 
faithfully, C. Bronte. 

My headaches are better. I have needed no help, but I 
thank you sincerely for your kind offers. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, August 12th, 1852. 

Dear Ellen, — Papa has varied occasionally since I 
wrote to you last. Monday was a very bad day, his 
spirits sunk painfully. Tuesday and yesterday, however, 
were much better, and to-day he seems wonderfully well. 
The prostration of spirits which accompanies anything 
like a relapse is almost the most difficult point to manage. 
Dear Nell, you are tenderly kind in offering your society; 
but rest very tranquil where you are; be fully assured 
that it is not now, nor under present circumstances, that 
I feel the lack either of society or occupation; my time 
is pretty well filled up, and my thoughts appropriated. 

213 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Mr. Ruddock now seems quite satisfied there is no pre- 
sent danger whatever; he says papa has an excellent 
constitution and may live many years yet. The true 
balance is not yet restored to the circulation^ but I believe 
that impetuous and dangerous termination to the head 
is quite obviated. I cannot permit myself to comment 
much on the chief contents of your last; advice is not 
necessary. As far as I can judge^ you seem hitherto 
enabled to take these trials in a good and wise spirit. 
I can only pray that such combined strength and resigna- 
tion may be continued to you. vSubmission, courage^ 
exertion, when practicable — these seem to be the weapons 
with which we must fight life's long battle. — Yours 
faithfully, C. Bronte. 

To Miss Nussey we owe many other letters than those 
here printed — indeed, they must needs play an important 
part in Charlotte Bronte's biography. They do not deal 
with the intellectual interests which are so marked in the 
letters to W. S. Williams, and which, doubtless, charac- 
terised the letters to Miss Mary Taylor. " I ought to 
have written this letter to Mary,*' Charlotte says, when 
on one occasion she dropped into literature to her friend ; 
but the friendship was as precious as most intellectual 
friendships, because it was based upon a common esteem 
and an unselfish devotion. Ellen Nussey, as we have 
seen, accompanied Anne Bronte to Scarborough, and 
was at her death-bed. She attended Charlotte's wed- 
ding, and lived to mourn over her tomb. For forty 
years she was the untiring advocate and staunch 
champion, hating to hear a word in her great friend's 
dispraise, loving to note the glorious recognition, of 
which there has been so rich and so full a harvest. 



214 



CHAPTER IX 

MARY TAYLOR 

Mary Taylor, the '' M " of Mrs. GaskeU's bio- 
graphy, and the *' Rose Yorke " of Shirley, vnll always 
have a peculiar interest to those who care for the Brontes. 
She shrank from publicity, and her name has been less 
mentioned than that of any other member of the circle. 
And yet hers was a personality singularly strenuous and 
strong. She \\TOte two books '' ^\-ith a purpose," and, 
as we shall see, vigorously embodied her teaching in her 
life. It will be remembered that Charlotte Bronte, 
Ellen Nussey, and Mary Taylor first met at Roe Head 
School, when Charlotte was nearly fifteen and her 
friends about fourteen years of age. Here are Miss 
Nussey' s impressions — 

She was pretty, and very childish-looking^ dressed in a 
red-coloured frock with short sleeves and low neck^ as 
then worn by young girls. Miss Wooler in later years used 
to say that when Mary went to her as a pupil she thought 
her too pretty to live. She was not talkative at school, 
but industrious^ and always ready with lessons. She was 
always at the top in class lessons^, with Charlotte Bronte 
and the writer; seldom a change was made^ and then only 
with the three — one move. Charlotte and she were great 
friends for a time, but there was no withdrawing from me 
on either side, and Charlotte never quite knew how an 
estrangement arose with Mary, but it lasted a long time. 
Then a time came that both Charlotte and Mary were so 
proficient in schoohoom attainments there was no more 
for them to learn, and Miss Wooler set them Blair's Belles 
Lettres to commit to memory. We all laughed at their 
studies, Charlotte persevered, but Mary took her own liae, 
flatly refused, and accepted the penalty of disobedience, 
going supperless to bed for about a month before she left 
school. \Mien it was moonlight, we always found her 
engaged in drawing on the chest of drawers, which stood 

2i; 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

in the bay window^ quite happy and cheerful. Her re- 
belHon was never outspoken. She was always quiet in 
demeanour. Her sister Martha^ on the contrary^ spoke 
out vigorously^ daring Miss Wooler so much^ face to face, 
that she sometimes received a box on the ear, which hardly 
any saint could have withheld. Then Martha would 
expatiate on the danger of boxing ears, quoting a reverend 
brother of Miss Wooler 's. Among her school companions 
Martha was called " Miss Boisterous/' but was always a 
favourite, so piquant and fascinating were her ways. She 
was not in the least pretty, but something much better, 
full of change and variety, rudely outspoken, lively, and 
original, producing laughter with her own good-humour 
and affection. She was her father's pet child. He de- 
lighted in hearing her sing, telling her to go to the piano, 
with his affectionate " Patty lass." 

Mary never had the impromptu vivacity of her sister, 
but was Uvely in games that engaged her mind. Her 
music was very correct, but entirely cultivated by practice 
and perseverance. Anything underhand was detestable 
to both Mary and Martha; they had no mean pride 
towards others, but accepted the incidents of life with 
imperturbable good-sense and insight. They were not 
dressed as well as other pupils, for economy at that time 
was the rule of their household. The girls had to stitch 
all over their new gloves before wearing them, by order 
of their mother, to make them wear longer. Their dark 
blue cloth coats were worn when too short, and black 
beaver bonnets quite plainly trimmed, with the ease and 
contentment of a fashionable costume. Mr. Taylor was 
a banker as well as a monopolist of army cloth manufacture 
in the district. He lost money, and gave up banking. 
He set his mind on paying all creditors, and effected this 
during his lifetime as far as possible, willing that his sons 
were to do the remainder, which two of his sons carried 
out, as was understood, during their lifetime — Mark and 
Martin of Shirley, 

Let us now read Charlotte's description in Shirley, 
and I think we have a tolerably fair estimate of the sisters. 

216 



Mary Taylor 



The two next are girls^Rose and Jessie; they are both now 
at their father's knee; they seldom go near their mother, 
except when obhged to do so. Rose, the elder, is twelve 
years old; she is like her father — the most like him of 
the whole group — but it is a granite head copied in ivory; 
all is softened in colour and line. Yorke himself has a 
harsh face; his daughter's is not harsh, neither is it quite 
pretty; it is simple — childlike in feature; the round 
cheeks bloom; as to the grey eyes, they are otherwise 
than childlike — a serious soul lights them — a young soul 
yet, but it will mature, if the body lives; and neither 
father nor mother has a spirit to compare with it. Par- 
taking of the essence of each, it will one day be better 
than either — stronger, much purer, more aspiring. Rose 
is a still, and sometimes a stubborn girl now; her mother 
wants to make of her such a woman as she is herself — 
a woman of dark and dreary duties ; and Rose has a mind 
full-set, thick-sown with the germs of ideas her mother 
never knew. It is agony to her often to have these ideas 
trampled on and repressed. She has never rebelled yet; 
but if hard driven, she will rebel one day, and then it will 
be once for all. Rose loves her father; her father does 
not rule her with a rod of iron; he is good to her. He 
sometimes fears she will not live, so bright are the sparks 
of intelligence which, at moments, flash from her glance 
and gleam in her language. This idea makes him often 
sadly tender to her. 

He has no idea that little Jessie will die young, she is so 
gay and chattering, arch — original even now; passionate 
when provoked, but most affectionate if caressed; by 
turns gentle and ratthng ; exacting yet generous ; fearless 
— of her mother, for instance, whose irrationally hard and 
strict rule she has often defied — yet reliant on any who 
will help her. Jessie, with her little piquant face, engag- 
ing prattle, and winning ways, is made to be a pet; and 
her father's pet she accordingly is. 

Mary Taylor was called " Pag *' by her friends, and the 
first important reference to her that I find is contained in 
a letter written by Charlotte to Ellen Nussey, when she 
was seventeen years of age. 

217 



The Brontes and Their Circle 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ June 2othy 1833. 

Dear Ellen^ — I know you will be very angry because I 
have not written sooner; my reason, or rather my motive 
for this apparent neglect was^ that I had determined not 
to write until I could ask you to pay us your long-promised 
visit. Aunt thought it would be better to defer it until 
about the middle of summer^ as the winter and even the 
spring seasons are remarkably cold and bleak among our 
mountains. Papa now desires me to present his respects 
to your motherland say that he should feel greatly obliged if 
she would allow us the pleasure of your company for a few 
weeks at Haworth. I will leave it to you to fix whatever 
day may be most convenient^ but let it be an early one. 
I received a letter from Pag Taylor yesterday; she was in 
high dudgeon at my inattention in not promptly answer- 
ing her last epistle. I however sat down immediately 
and wrote a very humble reply^ candidly confessing my 
faults and soliciting forgiveness; I hope it has proved 
successful. Have you suffered much from that trouble- 
some though not (I am happy to hear) generally fatal 
disease^ the influenza ? We have so far steered clear of it^ 
but I know not how long we may continue to escape. 
Your last letter revealed a state of mind which seemed to 
promise much. As I read it I could not help wishing 
that my own feelings more resembled yours ; but unhappily 
all the good thoughts that enter my mind evaporate 
almost before I have had time to ascertain their existence ; 
every right resolution which I form is so transient, so 
fragile, and so easily broken, that I sometimes fear I shall 
never be what I ought. Earnestly hoping that this may 
not be your case, that you may continue steadfast till the 
end, — I remain, dearest Ellen, your ever faithful friend, 

Charlotte Bronte. 

The next letter refers to Mr. Taylor's death. Mr. 
Taylor, it is scarcely necessary to add, is the Mr. Yorke 

218 



Mary Taylor 



of Briarmains, who figures so largely in Shirley. I have 
visited the substantial red-brick house near the high- 
road at Gomersall, but descriptions of the Bronte 
country do not come within the scope of this volume. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

January yd, 1841. 

My dear Ellen, — I received the news in your last with 
no surprise, and with the feeling that this removal must 
be a relief to Mr. Taylor himself and even to his family. 
The bitterness of death was past a year ago, when it was 
first discovered that his illness must terminate fatally; 
all between has been lingering suspense. This is at an 
end now, and the present certainty, however sad, is better 
than the former doubt. What will be the consequence 
of his death is another question; for my own part, I look 
forward to a dissolution and dispersion of the family, 
perhaps not immediately, but in the course of a year or 
two. It is true, causes may arise to keep them together 
awhile longer, but they are restless, active spirits, and will 
not be restrained always. Mary alone has more energy 
and power in her nature than any ten men you can pick 
out in the united parishes of Birstall and Haworth. It 
is vain to limit a character like hers within ordinary 
boundaries — she will overstep them. I am morally 
certain Mary will establish her own landmarks, so will 
the rest of them. C. Bronte. 

Soon after her father's death Mary Taylor turned her 
eyes towards New Zealand, where she had friends, but 
four years were to go by before anything came of the 
idea. 

TO MISS EMILY J. BRONTE 

Upperwood House, April 2nd, 1841. 

Dear E. J., — I received your last letter with delight as 
usual. I must write a line to thank you for it and the 
inclosure, which however is too bad — you ought not to 
have sent me those packets. I had a letter from Anne 

219 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

yesterday; she says she is well. I hope she speaks 
absolute truth. I had written to her and Branwell a few 
days before. I have not heard from Branwell yet. It is 
to be hoped that his removal to another station will turn 
out for the best. As you say^ it looks like getting on at 
any rate. 

I have got up my courage so far as to ask Mrs. ^Vhite to 
grant me a day's holiday to go to Birstall to see Ellen 
Nussey, who has offered to send a gig for me. My request 
was granted, but so coldly and slowly. However, I 
stuck to my point in a very exemplary and remarkable 
manner. I hope to go next Saturday. Matters are 
progressing very strangely at Gomersall. Mary Taylor 
and Waring have come to a singular determination, but 
I almost think under the peculiar circumstances a de- 
fensible one, though it sounds outrageously odd at first. 
They are going to emigrate — to quit the country alto- 
gether. Their destination unless they change is Port 
Nicholson, in the northern island of New Zealand ! ! I 
Mary has made up her mind she can not and will not be 
a governess, a teacher, a milliner, a bonnet-maker nor 
housemaid. She sees no means of obtaining employment 
she would like in England, so she is leaving it. I coun- 
selled her to go to France likewise and stay there a year 
before she decided on this strange unlikely-sounding plan 
of going to New Zealand, but she is quite resolved. I 
cannot sufficiently comprehend what her views and those 
of her brothers may be on the subject, or what is the 
extent of their information regarding Port Nicholson, to 
say whether this is rational enterprise or absolute madness. 
With love to papa, aunt. Tabby, etc. — Good-bve. 

C. B. 

P,S, — I am very well; I hope you are. Write again 
soon. 

Soon after this Mary went on a long visit to Brussels, 
which, as we have seen, was the direct cause of Charlotte 
and Emily establishing themselves at the Pensionnat 
Heger. In Brussels Martha Taylor found a grave. 
Here is one of her letters. 

220 



Mary Taylor 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Brussels^ Sept. gth^ 1841. 

My dear Ellen^ — I received your letter from Mary^ and 
you say I am to write though I have nothing to say. My 
sister will tell you all about me^ for she has more time to 
write than I have. 

Whilst Mary and John have been with me^ we have been 
to Liege and Spa, where we stayed eight days. I found 
my little knowledge of French very useful in our travels. 
I am going to begin working again very hard, now that 
John and Mary are going away. I intend beginning 
German directly. I would write some more but this pen of 
Mary's won't write; you must scold her for it, and tell her 
to write you a long account of my proceedings. You must 
write to me sometimes. George Dixon is coming here the 
last week in September, and you must send a letter for 
me to Mary to be forwarded by him. Good-bye. May 
you be happy. Martha Taylor. 

It was while Charlotte was making her second stay in 
Brussels that she heard of Mary's determination to go 
with her brother Waring to New Zealand, with a view 
to earning her own living in any reasonable manner 
that might offer. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Brussels, April ist^ 1843. 

Dear Ellen, — That last letter of yours merits a good 
dose of panegyric — it was both long and interesting; send 
me quickly such another, longer still if possible. You 
will have heard of Mary Taylor's resolute and intrepid 
proceedings. Her public letters will have put you in 
possession of all details — nothing is left for me to say 
except perhaps to express my opinion upon it. I have 
turned the matter over on all sides and really I cannot 
consider it otherwise than as very rational. Mind, I did 
not jump to this opinion at once, but was several days 
before I formed it conclusively. C. B. 

221 



The Brontes and Their Circle 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Sunday Evening, June ist, 1845. 

Dear Ellen^ — You probably know that another letter 
has been received from Mary Taylor. It is^ however, 
possible that your absence from home will have prevented 
your seeing it, so I will give you a sketch of its contents. 
It was wTitten at about 4° N. of the Equator. The first 
part of the letter contained an account of their landing 
at Santiago. Her health at that time was very good, and 
her spirits seemed excellent. They had had contrary 
winds at first setting out, but their voyage was then 
prosperous. In the latter portion of the letter she com- 
plains of the excessive heat, and says she lives chiefly 
on oranges ; but still she was well, and freer from headache 
and other ailments than any other person on board. The 
receipt of this letter will have reheved all her friends from 
a weight of anxiety. I am uneasy about what you say 
respecting the French newspapers — do you mean to 
intimate that you have received none? I have des- 
patched them regularly. Emily and I keep them usually 
three days, sometimes only two, and then send them 
forward to you. I see by the cards you sent, and also by 
the newspaper, that Henry is at last married. How did 
you like your office of bridesmaid ? and how do you like 
your new sister and her family? You must write to 
me as soon as you can, and give me an observant account 
of everything. . C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, June 26th, 1848. 

Dear Ellen, — I should have answered your last long 
ago if I had known your address, but you omitted to give 
it me, and I have been waiting in the hope that you would 
perhaps write and repair the omission. Finding myself 
deceived in this expectation however, I have at last hit 

222 



Mary Taylor 



on the plan of sending the letter to Brookroyd to be 
directed ; be sure to give me your address when you reply 
to this. 

I was glad to hear that you were wellTeceived at London, 
and that you got safe to the end of your journey. Your 
naivete in gravely inquiring my opinion of the " last new 
novel '*' amuses me. We do not subscribe to a circulating 
Hbrary at Haworth, and consequently *^ new novels " 
rarely indeed come in our way, and consequently, again, 
we are not qualified to give opinions thereon. 

About three weeks ago, I received a brief note from 
Hunsworth, to the effect that Mr. Joe Taylor and his cousin 
Henr\^ would make some inquiries respecting Mme Heger's 
school on account of Ellen Taylor, and that if I had no 
objection, they would ride over to Haworth in a day or 
two. I said they might come if they would. They came, 
accompanied by Miss Mossman, of Bradford, whom I had 
never seen, only heard of occasionally. It was a pouring 
w^et and windy day; we had quite ceased to expect them. 
Miss Mossman was quite wet, and we had to make her 
change her things, and dress her out in ours as well as we 
could. I do not know if you are acquainted with her; I 
thought her unaffected and rather agreeable-looking, 
though she has very red hair. Henry Taylor does indeed 
resemble John most strongly. Joe looked thin; he was 
in good spirits, and I think in tolerable good-humour. I 
would have given much for you to have been there. I 
had not been very well for some days before, and had 
some difficulty in keeping up the talk, but I managed on 
the whole better than I expected. I was glad Miss Moss- 
man came, for she helped. Nothing new was com- 
municated respecting Mary. Nothing of importance in 
any way was said the whole time ; it was all rattle, rattle, 
of which I should have great difficulty now in recalling 
the substance. They left almost immediately after tea. 
I have not heard a word respecting them since, but I 
suppose they got home all right. The visit strikes me as 
an odd whim. I consider it quite a caprice, prompted 
probably by curiosity. 

223 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Joe Taylor mentioned that he had called at Brookroyd, 
and that Ann had told him you were ill, and going into 
the South for change of air. 

I hope you will soon write to me again and tell me par- 
ticularly how your health is, and how you get on. Give 
my regards to Mary Gorham, for really I have a sort of 
regard for her by hearsay, and— Believe me, dear Nell, 
yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

The Ellen Taylor mentioned in the above letter did 
not go to Brussels. She joined her cousin Mary in New 
Zealand instead. 



TO MISS CHARLOTTE BRONTE 

Wellington, April loth, 1849. 

Dear Charlotte, — I Ve been delighted to receive a very 
interesting letter from you with an account of your visit 
to London, etc. I believe I have tacked this acknow- 
ledgment to the tail of my last letter to you, but since 
then it has dawned on my comprehension that you are 
becoming a very important personage in this little world, 
and therefore, d'ye see.^ I must write again to you. I 
wish you would give me some account of Newby, and what 
the man said when confronted with the real Ellis Bell. 
By the way, having got your secret, will he keep it.^ 
And how do you contrive to get your letters under the 
address of Mr. Bell? The whole scheme must be par- 
ticularly interesting to hear about, if I could only talk to 
you for half a day. When do you intend to tell the good 
people about you ? 

I am now hard at work expecting Ellen Taylor. She 
may possibly be here in two months. I once thought of 
writing you some of the dozens of schemes I have for Ellen 
Taylor, but as the choice depends on her I may as well 
wait and tell you the one she chooses. The two most 
reasonable are keeping a school and keeping a shop. The 
last is evidently the most healthy, but the most difficult 

224 



Mary Taylor 



of accomplishment. I have written an account of the 
earthquakes for Chambers, and intend (now don't remind 
me of this a year hence^ because lafemme propose) to write 
some more. What else I shall do I don't know. I find 
the writing faculty does not in the least depend on the 
leisure I have, but much more on the active work I have 
to do. I write at my novel a little and think of my other 
book. What this will turn out, God only knows. It is not, 
and never can be forgotten. It is my child, my baby, and 
I assure you such a wonder as never was. I intend him 
when full grown to revolutionise society and/azV^ epoque 
in history. 

In the meantime I'm doing a collar in crochet work. 

Pag. 



TO MISS CHARLOTTE BRONTE 

Wellington, New Zealand, 
July 24thy 1848. 

Dear Charlotte, — About a month since I received 
and read Jane Eyre, It seemed to me incredible that you 
had actually written a book. Such events did not happen 
while I was in England. I begin to believe in your 
existence much as I do in Mr. Rochester's. In a believing 
mood I don't doubt either of them. After I had read it 
I went on to the top of Mount Victoria and looked for a 
ship to carry a letter to you. There was a little thing with 
one mast, and also H.M.S. Fly, and nothing else. If a 
cattle vessel came from Sydney she would probably 
return in a few days, and would take a mail, but we have 
had east wind for a month and nothing can come in. 

Aug, I. — The Harlequin has just come from Otago, and 
is to sail for Singapore when the wind changes, and by that 
route (which I hope to take myself sometime) I send you 
this. Much good may it do you. Your novel surprised 
me by being so perfect as a work of art. I expected 
something more changeable and unfinished. You have 
polished to some purpose. If I were to do so I should get 

225 H 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

tired^ and weary every one else in about two pages. No 
sign of this weariness in your book — you must have had 
abundance^ having kept it all to yourself ! 

You are very different from me in having no doctrine to 
preach. It is impossible to squeeze a moral out of your 
production. Has the world gone so well with you that 
you have no protest to make against its absurdities ? Did 
you never sneer or declaim in your first sketches ? I will 
scold you well when I see you. I do not beheve in Mr. 
Rivers. There are no good men of the Brocklehurst 
species. A missionary either goes into his ofhce for a 
piece of bread, or he goes from enthusiasm, and that is 
both too good and too bad a quality for St. John. It's a 
bit of your absurd charity to believe in such a man. You 
have done wisely in choosing to imagine a high class of 
readers. You never stop to explain or defend anything, 
and never seem bothered with the idea. If Mrs. Fairfax 
or any other well-intentioned fool gets hold of this what 
will she think ? And yet, you know, the world is made up 
of such, and worse. Once more, how have you wTitten 
through three volumes without declaring war to the knife 
against a few dozen absurd doctrines, each of which is 
supported by *' a large and respectable class of readers " ? 
Emily seems to have had such a class in her eye when she 
wrote that strange thing Wuthering Heights. Anne, too, 
stops repeatedly to preach commonplace truths. She has 
had a still lower class in her mind's eye. Emily seems to 
have followed the bookseller's advice. As to the price you 
got, it was certainly Jewish. But what could the people do ? 
If they had asked you to fix it, do you know yourself how 
many ciphers your sum would have had ? And how should 
they know better? And if they did, that's the knowledge 
they get their living by. If I were in your place, the idea 
of being bound in the sale of two more would prevent me 
from ever writing again. Yet you are probably now busy 
with another. It is curious for me to see among the old 
letters one from Anne sending a copy of a whole article on 
the currency question written by Fonblanque ! I exceed- 
ingly regret having burnt your letters in a fit of caution, 

226 



Mary Taylor 



and I've forgotten all the names. Was the reader Albert 
Smith ? What do they all think of you ? 

I mention the book to no one and hear no opinions. I 
lend it a good deal because it's a novels and ifs as good as 
another I They say '' it makes them cry." They are not 
literary enough to give an opinion. If ever I hear one 
I'll embalm it for you. As to my own affair^ I have 
written loo pages^ and lately 50 more. It's no use writing 
faster. I get so disgusted^ I can do nothing. 

If I could command sufficient money for a twelve- 
month, I would go home by way of India and write my 
travels, which would prepare the way for my novel. With 
the benefit of your experience I should perhaps make a 
better bargain than you. I am most afraid of my health. 
Not that I should die, but perhaps sink into a state of 
betweenity, neither well nor ill, in which I should observe 
nothing, and be very miserable besides. My life here is 
not disagreeable. I have a great resource in the piano, 
and a little employment in teaching. 

It's a pity you don't live in this world, that I might 
entertain you about the price of meat. Do you know, I 
bought six heifers the other day for £2^, and now it is 
turned so cold I expect to hear one-half of them are dead. 
One man bought twenty sheep for £8, and they are all 
dead but one. Another bought 150 and has 40 left. 

I have now told you everything I can think of except 
that the cat's on the table and that I'm going to borrow 
a new book to read — no less than an account of all the 
systems of philosophy of modern Europe. I have lately 
met with a wonder, a man who thinks Jane Eyre would 
have done better to marry Mr. Rivers. He gives no 
reason — such people never do. Mary Taylor. 

TO MISS CHARLOTTE BRONTE 

Wellington, New Zealand. 

Dear Charlotte, — I have set up shop! I am de- 
lighted with it as a whole — that is, it is as pleasant or as 
little disagreeable as you can expect an employment to be 

227 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

that you earn your living by. The best of it is that your 
labour has some return^ and you are not forced to work on 
hopelessly without result. Du teste, it is very odd. I 
keep looking at myself with one eye while I'm using the 
other^ and I sometimes find myself in very queer positions. 
Yesterday I went along the shore past the wharfes and 
several warehouses on a street where I had never been 
before during all the five years I have been in Wellington. 
I opened the door of a long place filled with packages, 
with passages up the middle^ and a row of high windows 
one one side. At the far end of the room a man was 
writing at a desk beneath a window. I walked all the 
length of the room very slowly^ for what I had come for 
had completely gone out of my head. Fortunately the 
man never heard me until I had recollected it. Then he 
got up, and I asked him for some stone-blue, saltpetre, tea, 
pickles, salt, etc. He was very civil. I bought some 
things and asked for a note of them. He went to his desk 
again; I looked at some newspapers lying near. On the 
top was a circular from Smith & Elder containing notices 
of the most important new works. The first and longest 
was given to Shirley, a book I had seen mentioned in the 
Manchester Examiner as written by Currer Bell. I 
blushed all over. The man got up, folding the note. 
I pulled it out of his hand and set off to the door, looking 
odder than ever, for a partner had come in and was 
watching. The clerk said something about sending them, 
and I said something too — I hope it was not very silly — 
and took my departure. 

I have seen some extracts from Shirley in which you 
talk of women working. And this first duty, this great 
necessity, you seem to think that some women may in- 
dulge in, if they give up marriage, and don't make them- 
selves too disagreeable to the other sex. You are a 
coward and a traitor. A woman who works is by that 
alone better than one who does not; and a woman who 
does not happen to be rich and who still earns no money 
and does not wish to do so, is guilty of a great fault, 
almost a crime — a derehction of duty which leads rapidly 

228 



Mary Taylor 



and almost certainly to all manner of degradation. It is 
very wrong of you to plead for toleration for workers on 
the ground of their being in peculiar circumstances^ and 
few in number or singular in disposition. Work or degrada- 
tion is the lot of all except the very small number bom 
to wealth. 

Ellen is with me^ or I with her. I cannot tell how our 
shop will turn out^ but I am as sanguine as ever. Mean- 
time we certainly amuse ourselves better than if wx had 
nothing to do. We like it, and that's the truth. By the 
Cornelia we are going to send our sketches and fern leaves. 
You must look at them^ and it will need all your eyes to 
understand them^ for they are a mass of confusion. They 
are all within two miles of Wellington^ and some of them 
rather like — Ellen's sketch of me especially. During the 
last six months I have seen more " society " than in all 
the last four years. Ellen is half the reason of my being 
invited^ and my improved circumstances besides. There 
is no one worth mentioning particularly. The women are 
all ignorant and narrow^ and the men selfish. They are 
of a decent^ honest kind^ and some intelligent and able. 
A Mr. Woodward is the only literary man we know, and 
he seems to have fair sense. This was the clerk I bought 
the stone-blue of. We have just got a mechanic's insti- 
tute, and weekly lectures delivered there. It is amusing 
to see people trying to find out whether or not it is 
fashionable and proper to patronise it. Somehow it 
seems it is. I think I have told you all this before, which 
shows I have got to the end of my news. Your next 
letter to me ought to bring me good news, more cheerful 
than the last. You will somehow get drawn out of your 
hole and find interests among your fellow-creatures. Do 
you know that living among people with whom you have 
not the slightest interest in common is just like living 
alone, or worse? Ellen Nussey is the only one you can 
talk to, that I know of at least. Give my love to her 
and to Miss Wooler, if you have the opportunity. I am 
writing this on just such a night as you will likely read 
it — rain and storm, coming winter, and a glowing fire. 

229 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Ours is on the ground^ wood, no fender or irons; no 
matter, we are very comfortable. Pag. 



TO MISS CHARLOTTE BRONTE 

Wellington, N. Z., April yd, 1850. 

Dear Charlotte, — About a week since I received your 
last melancholy letter with the account of Anne's death 
and your utter indifference to everything, even to the 
success of your last book. Though you do not say this, it 
is pretty plain to be seen from the style of your letter. It 
seems to me hard indeed that you who would succeed, 
better than any one, in making friends and keeping them, 
should be condemned to solitude from your poverty. To 
no one would money bring more happiness, for no one 
would use it better than you would. For me, with my 
headlong self-indulgent habits, I am perhaps better 
without it, but I am convinced it would give you great and 
noble pleasures. Look out then for success in writing; 
you ought to care as much for that as you do for going to 
Heaven. Though the advantages of being employed 
appear to you now the best part of the business, you will 
soon, please God, have other enjoyments from your 
success. Railway shares will rise, your books will sell, 
and you will acquire influence and power; and then most 
certainly you will find something to use it in which will 
interest you and make you exert yourself. 

I have got into a heap of social trickery since Ellen 
came, never having troubled my head before about the 
comparative numbers of young ladies and young gentle- 
men. To Ellen it is quite new to be of such importance 
by the mere fact of her femininity. She thought she was 
coming wofully down in the world when she came out, and 
finds herself better received than ever she was in her life 
before. And the class are not in education inferior, 
though they are in money. They are decent well-to-do 
people: six grocers, one draper, two parsons, two clerks, 
two lawyers, and three or four nondescripts. All these 
but one have famiUes to " take tea with," and there are a 

230 



Mary Taylor 



lot more single men to flirt with. For the last three 
months we have been out every Sunday sketching. We 
seldom succeed in making the slightest resemblance to the 
thing we sit do^sTi to, but it is wonderfully interesting. 
Next year we hope to send a lot home. With all this my 
novel stands still; it might have done so if I had had 
nothing to do, for it is not want of time but want of 
freedom of mind that makes me unable to direct my 
attention to it. Meantime it grows in my head, for I 
never give up the idea. I have wTitten about a volume 
I suppose. Read this letter to Ellen Nussey. 

Mary Taylor. 

TO MISS CHARLOTTE BRONTE 

W^ELLIXGTON, AllgUSt l$thj 1850. 

Dear Ch.\rlotte, — After waiting about six months we 
have just got Shirley. It was landed from the Constanti- 
nople on Monday afternoon, just in the thick of our pre- 
parations for a '' small party " for the next day. We 
stopped spreading red blankets over ever}i:hing (New 
Zealand way of arranging the room) and opened the box 
and read all the letters. Soyer's Housewife and SJiirley 
were there all right, but Miss Martineau's book was not. 
In its place was a silly child's tale called Edward Orland, 
On Tuesday we stayed up dancing till three or four o'clock, 
what for I can't imagine. However, it was a piece of 
business done. On Wednesday I began Shirley and con- 
tinued in a curious confusion of mind till now, principally 
at the handsome foreigner who was nursed in our house 
when I was a httle girl. By the way, you've put him in 
the servant's bedroom. You make us aU talk much as I 
think we should have done if we'd ventured to speak at all. 
\Miat a little lump of perfection you've made me ! There 
is a strange feeling in reading it of hearing us all talking. 
I have not seen the matted hall and painted parlour 
windows so plain these five years. But my father is not 
like. He hates well enough and perhaps loves too, but 
he is not honest enough. It was from my father I learnt 

231 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

not to marry for money nor to tolerate any one who did, 
and he never would advise any one to do so, or fail to 
speak with contempt of those who did. Shirley is much 
more interesting than Jane Eyre, who never interests you 
at all until she has something to suffer. All through this 
last novel there is so much more life and stir that it leaves 
you far more to remember than the other. Did you go to 
London about this too? What for,^ I see by a letter of 
yours to Mr. Dixon that you have been. I wanted to 
contradict some of your opinions, now I can't. As to 
when I'm coming home, you may well ask. I have wished 
for fifteen years to begin to earn my own hving; last April 
I began to try — it is too soon to say yet with what success. 
I am woefully ignorant, terribly wanting in tact, and 
obstinately lazy, and almost too old to mend. Luckily 
there is no other dance for me, so I must work. Ellen 
takes to it kindly, it gratifies a deep ardent wish of hers as 
of mine, and she is habitually industrious. For her, ten 
years younger, our shop will be a blessing. She may 
possibly secure an independence, and skill to keep it and 
use it, before the prime of life is past. As to my writings, 
you may as well ask the Fates about that too. I can give 
you no information. I write a page now and then. I 
never forget or get strange to what I have written. When 
I read it over it looks very interesting. Mary Taylor. 

The Ellen Taylor referred to so frequently was, as I 
have said, a cousin of Mary's. Her early death in New 
Zealand gives the single letter I have of hers a more 
pathetic interest. 

TO MISS CHARLOTTE BRONTE 

Wellington, N. Z. 

My dear Miss Bronte, — I shall tell you everything I 
can think of, since you said in one of your letters to Pag 
that you wished me to write to you. I have been here a 
year. It seems a much shorter time, and yet I have 
thought more and done more than I ever did in my life 
before. When we arrived, Henry and I were in such a 

22,2 



Mary Taylor 



hurry to leave the ship that we didn't wait to be fetched, 
but got into the first boat that came alongside. When 
we landed we inquired where Waring lived, but hadn't 
walked far before we met him. I had never seen him 
before, but he guessed we were the cousins he expected, so 
caught us and took us along with him. Mary soon joined 
us, and we went home together. At first I thought Mary 
was not the least altered, but when I had seen her for about 
a week I thought she looked rather older. The first night 
Mary and I sat up till 2 a.m. talking. Mary and I settled 
we would do something together, and we talked for a 
fortnight beford we decided whether we would have a 
school or shop; it ended in favour of the shop. Waring 
thought we had better be quiet, and I believe he still 
thinks we are doing it for amusement; but he never 
refuses to help us. He is teaching us book-keeping, and 
he buys things for us now and then. Mary gets as fierce 
as a dragon and goes to all the wholesale stores and looks 
at things, gets patterns, samples, etc., and asks prices, 
and then comes home, and we talk it over; and then she 
goes again and buys what we want. She says the people 
are always civil to her. Our keeping shop astonishes 
everybody here; I believe they think we do it for fun. 
Some think we shall make nothing of it, or that we shall 
get tired; and all laugh at us. Before I left home I used 
to be afraid of being laughed at, but now it has very little 
effect upon me. 

Mary and I are settled together now: I can't do without 
Mary and she couldn't get on by herself. I built the house 
we live in, and we made the plan ourselves, so it suits us. 
We take it in turns to serve in the shop, and keep the 
accounts, and do the housework — I mean, Mary takes the 
shop for a week and I the kitchen, and then we change. 
I think we shall do very well if no more severe earthquakes 
come, and if we can prevent fire. When a wooden house 
takes fire it doesn't stop; and we have got an oil cask 
about as high as I am, that would help it. If some sparks 
go out at the chimney-top the shingles are in danger. The 
last earthquake but one about a fortnight ago threw down 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

two medicine bottles that were standing on the table and 
made other things jingle, but did no damage. If we have 
nothing worse than that I don't care, but I don't w^ant 
the chimney to come down — it would cost £io to build it 
up again. Mary is making me stop because it is nearly 
9 P.M. and we are going to Waring's to supper. Good-bye. 
— ^\^ours truly, Ellen Taylor. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, July 4thj 1849. 

I get on as well as I can. Home is not the home it used 
to be — that you may well conceive; butrso far, I get on. 

I cannot boast of vast benefits derived from change of 
air yet; but unfortunately I brought back the seeds of a 
cold with me from that dismal Easton, and I have not got 
rid of it yet. Still I think I look better than I did before I 
wxnt. How are you? You have never told me. 

Mr. Williams has written to me twice since my return, 
chiefly on the subject of his third daughter, who wishes 
to be a governess, and has some chances of a presentation 
to Queen's College, an establishment connected with the 
Governess Institution; this will secure her four years of 
instruction. He says Mr. George Smith is kindly using 
his influence to obtain votes, but there are so many 
candidates he is not sanguine of success. 

I had a long letter from Mary Taylor — interesting but 
sad, because it contained many allusions to those who are 
in this world no more. She mentioned you, and seemed 
impressed with an idea of the lamentable nature of your 
unoccupied life. She spoke of her own health as being 
excellent. 

Give my love to your mother and sisters, and, — Believe 
me, yours, C. B. 

TO MISS CHARLOTTE BRONTE 

Wellington, N. Z. 
Dear Charlotte, — I began a letter to you one bitter 
cold evening last week, but it turned out such a sad one 
that I have left it and begun again. I am sitting all alone 

234 



Mary Taylor 



in my own house, or rather what is to be mine when I've 
paid for it. I bought it of Henry when Ellen died — shop 
and all, and carry on by myself. I have made up my 
mind not to get any assistance. I have not too much work, 
and the annoyance of having an unsuitable companion 
was too great to put up with without necessity. I find 
now that it was Ellen that made me so busy, and without 
her to nurse I have plenty of time. I have begun to keep 
the house very tidy; it makes it less desolate. I take 
great interest in my trade — as much as I could do in any- 
thing that was not all pleasure. But the best part of my 
life is the excitement of arrivals from England. Reading- 
all the news, written and printed, is like living another life 
quite separate from this one. The old letters are strange 
— very, when I begin to read them, but quite familiar 
notwithstanding. So are all the books and newspapers, 
though I never see a human being to whom it would ever 
occur to me to mention anything I read in them. I see 
your nom de guerre in them sometimes. I saw a criticism, 
on the preface to the second edition of Wuthertng Heights, 
I saw it among the notables who attended Thackeray's 
lectures. I have seen it somehow connected with Sir 
J. K. Shuttleworth. Did he want to marry you, or only 
to lionise you ? or was it somebody else ? 

Your hfe in London is a " new country " to me, which I 
cannot even picture to myself. You seem to like it — at 
least some things in it, and yet your late letters to Mrs. J. 
Taylor talk of low spirits and illness. '^ What's the matter 
with you now? " as my mother used to say, as if it were 
the twentieth time in a fortnight. It is really melancholy 
that now, in the prime of life, in the flush of your hard- 
earned prosperity, you can't be well. Did not Miss 
Martineau improve you? If she did, why not try her 
and her plan again? But I suppose if you had hope and 
energy to try, you would be well. Well, it's nearly dark 
and you will surely be well when you read this, so what's 
the use of writing ? I should like well to have some details 
of your life, but how can I hope for it? I have often tried 
to give you a picture of mine, but I have not the skill. I 

235 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

get a heap of details^ mostly paltry in themselves, and not 
enough to give you an idea of the whole. Oh, for one 
hour's talk ! You are getting too far off and beginning to 
look strange to me. Do you look as you used to do, I 
wonder ? What do you and Ellen Nussey talk about when 
you meet. ^ There! it's dark. 

Sunday night. — I have let the vessel go that was to take 
this. As there were others going soon I did not much 
care. I am in the height of cogitation whether to send for 
some worsted stockings, etc. They will come next year 
at this time, and who can tell what I shall want then, or 
shall be doing? Yet hitherto we have sent such orders, 
and have guessed or known pretty well what we should 
want. I have just been looking over a list of four pages 
long in Ellen's handwriting. These things ought to come 
by the next vessel, or part of them at least. When tired 
of that I began to read some pages of ^' my book," intend- 
ing to write some more, but went on reading for pleasure. 
I often do this, and find it very interesting indeed. It does 
not get on fast, though I have written about one volume 
and a half. It's full of music, poverty, disputing, politics, 
and original views of life. I can't for the life of me bring 
the lover into it, nor tell what he's to do when he comes. 
Of the men generally I can never tell what they'll do next. 
The women I understand pretty well, and rare tracasserie 
there is among them — they are perfectly /swmme in that 
respect at least. 

I am just now in a state of famine. No books and no 
news from England for this two months. I am thinking 
of visiting a circulating library from sheer dulness. If I 
had more time I should get melancholy. No one can prize 
activity more than I do. I never am long without it than 
a gloom comes over me. The cloud seems to be always 
there behind me, and never quite out of sight but when I 
keep on at a good rate. Fortunately, the more I work the 
better I Uke it. I shall take to scrubbing the floor before 
it's dirty and polishing pans on the outside in my old age. 
It is the only thing that gives me an appetite for dinner. 

Give my love to Ellen Nussey. Pag. 

236 



Mary Taylor 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Wellington, N. Z._, ^th Jan. 1857. 

Dear Ellex^ — A few days ago I got a letter from you 
dated 2nd May 1856^ along with some patterns and fashion- 
book. They seem to have been lost somehow^ as the box 
ought to have come by the Hastings, and only now makes 
its appearance by the Philip Lang, It has come very 
apropos for a new year's gift^ and the patterns were not 
opened twenty-four hours before a silk cape was cut out 
by one of them. I think I made a very impertinent 
request when I asked you to give yourseK so much trouble. 
The poor woman for whom I wanted them is now a first- 
rate dressmaker — her drunken husband^ who was her 
main misfortune, having taken himself off and not been 
heard of lately. 

I am glad to hear that Mrs. Gaskell is progressing with 
the Life. 

I wish I had kept Charlotte's letters now, though I never 
felt it safe to do so until latterly that I have had a home of 
my own. They would have been much better evidence 
than my imperfect recollection, and infinitely more 
interesting. A settled opinion is very likely to look 
absurd unless you give the grounds for it, and even if I 
could remember them it might look as if there might be 
other facts which I have neglected which ought to have 
altered it. Your news of the '' neighbours " is verv^ interest- 
ing, especially of Miss Wooler and my old schoolfellows. 
I wish I knew how to give you some account of my ways 
here and the effect of my position on me. First of all, it 
agrees with me. I am in better health than at anv time 
since I left school. My life now is not overburdened with 
work, and what I do has interest and attraction in it. I 
think it is that part that I shall think most agreeable when 
I look back on my death-bed — a number of small pleasures 
scattered over my way, that, when seen from a distance, 
will seem to cover it thick. They don't cover it by any 
means, but I never had so many. 

I look after my shopwoman, make out bills, decide who 

237 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

shall have " trust " and who not. Then I go a-buying, not 
near such an anxious piece of business now that I under- 
stand my trade^ and have^ moreover^ a good " credit. '^ I 
read a good deal^ sometimes on the sofa, a vice I am much 
given to in hot weather. Then I have some friends — not 
many, and no geniuses, which fact pray keep strictly to 
yourself, for how the doings and sayings of Wellington 
people in England always come out again to New Zealand ! 
They are not very interesting any way. This is my fault 
in part, for I can't take interest in their concerns. A book 
is worth any of them, and a good book worth them all put 
together. 

Our east winds are much the pleasantest and healthiest 
we have. The soft moist north-west brings headache and 
depression — it even blights the trees. — Your affectionately, 

Mary Taylor. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Wellington, ^th June 1858. 

Dear Ellen, — I have lately heard that you are leaving 
Brookroyd. I shall not even s'ee Brookroyd again, and 
one of the people who lived there; and one whom I used to 
see there I shall never see more. Keep yourself well, dear 
Ellen, and gather round you as much happiness and interest 
as you can, and let me find you cheery and thriving when 
I come. When that will be I don't yet know; but one 
thing is sure, I have given over ordering goods from 
England, so that I must sometime give over for want of 
anything to sell. The last things ordered I expect to arrive 
about the beginning of the year 1859. In the course of 
that year, therefore, I shall be left without anything to do 
or motive for staying. Possibly this time twelve months 
I may be leaving Wellington. 

We are here in the height of a political crisis. The 
election for the highest office in the province (Superinten- 
dent) comes off in about a fortnight. There is altogether a 
small storm going on in our teacup, quite brisk enough to 
stir everything in it. My principal interest therein is the 

238 



Mary Taylor 



sale of election ribbons^ though I am afraid^ owing to the 
bad weather^ there will be little display. Besides the 
elections, there is nothing interesting. We all go on pretty- 
well. I have got a pony about four feet high, that carries 
me about ten miles from Wellington, which is much more 
than walking distance, to which I have been confined for 
the last ten years. I have given over most of the work to 
Miss Smith, who will finally take the business, and if we 
had fine weather I think I should enjoy myself. My main 
want here is for books enough to fill up my idle time. It 
seems to me that when I get home I will spend half my 
income on books, and sell them when I have read them to 
make it go further. I know this is absurd, but people 
with an unsatisfied appetite think they can eat enormously. 
Remember me kindly to Miss Wooler, and tell me all 
about her in your next. — Yours affectionately, 

Mary Taylor, 

Miss Taylor wrote one or two useful letters to Mrs. 
Gaskell, while the latter was preparing her Memoir of 
Charlotte Bronte, and her favourable estimate of the 
book we have already seen. About 1859 or i860 she 
returned to England and lived out the remainder of her 
days in complete seclusion in a Yorkshire home that she 
built for herself. The novel to which she refers in a 
letter to her friend never seems to have '* got itself 
written/' or at least published, for it was not until 1890 
that Miss Mary Taylor produced a work of fiction — 
Miss Miles .^ This novel strives to inculcate the advan- 
tages as well as the duty of women learning to make 
themselves independent of men. It is well, though not 
brilliantly written, and might, had the author possessed 
any of the latter-day gifts of self-advertisement, have 
attracted the public, if only by the mere fact that its 
author was a friend of Currer Bell's. But Miss Taylor, 
it is clear, hated advertisement, and severely refused to 
be lionised by Bronte worshippers. Twenty years 
earlier than Miss Miles, 1 may add, she had preached the 
same gospel in less attractive guise. A series of papers 
in the Victorian Magazine were reprinted under the title 

^ Miss Miles y or A Tale of Yorkshire Life Sixty Years Ago, by 
Mary Taylor. Rivingtons, 1890. 

239 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

of The First Duty of Women.'^ " To inculcate the duty 
of earning money," she declares, " is the principal point 
in these articles/' "It is to the feminine half of the 
world that the commonplace duty of providing for them- 
selves is recommended," and she enforces her doctrine 
with considerable point, and by means of arguments 
much more accepted in our day than in hers. Miss 
Taylor died in March 1893, at High Royd, in Yorkshire, 
at the age of sevent}^-six. She vaW always occupy an 
honourable place in the Bronte story. 

^ The First Duty of Women. A Series of Articles reprinted from 
the Victorian Magazine^ 1865 to 1870, by Mary Taylor. 1S70. 



240 



CHAPTER X 

MARGARET WOOLER 

The kindly, placid woman who will ever be remembered 
as Charlotte Bronte's schoolmistress, had, it may be 
safely said, no history. She was a good-hearted woman, 
who did her work and went to her rest with no possible 
claim to a place in biography, save only that she assisted 
in the education of two great women. For that reason 
her brief story is worth setting forth here. 

" I am afraid we cannot give you very much informa- 
tion about our aunt. Miss Wooler,'' writes one of her 
kindred. " She was the eldest of a large family, born 
June loth, 1792. She was extremely intelligent and 
highly educated, and throughout her long life, which 
lasted till within a week of completing her ninety-third 
year, she took the greatest interest in religious, political, 
and every charitable work, being a life governor to many 
institutions. Part of her early life was spent in the Isle 
of Wight with relations, where she was very intimate 
with the Sewell family, one of whom was the author of 
Amy Herbert. By her own family, she was ever looked 
up to with the greatest respect, being always called 
' Sister ' by her brothers and sisters all her life. After 
she retired from her school at Roe Head, and afterwards 
Dewsbury Moor, she used sometimes to make her home 
for months together with my father and mother at 
Heckmondwike Vicarage; then she would go away for 
a few months to the sea-side, either alone or with one 
of her sisters. The last ten or twelve years of her life 
were spent at Gomersall, along with two of her sisters 
and a niece. The three sisters all died within a year, 
the youngest going first and the eldest last. They are 
buried in Bir stall Churchyard, close to my parents and 
sister. 

'* Miss Bronte was her pupil when at Roe Head; the 
late Miss Taylor and Miss E. Nussey were also her pupils 
at the same time. Afterwards Miss Bronte stayed on as 
governess. My father prepared Miss Bronte for con- 

241 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

firmation when he was curate-in-charge at Mirfield 
Parish Church. When Miss Bronte was married, Miss 
Wooler was one of the guests. Mr. Bronte, not feehng 
well enough to go to Church that morning, my aunt 
gave her away, as she had no other relative there to do it. 

" Miss Wooler kept up a warm friendship with her 
former pupil, up to the time of her death. 

*'My aunt was a most loyal subject, and devotedly 
attached to the Church. She made a point of reading 
the Bible steadily through every year, and a chapter 
out of her Italian Testament each day, for she used to 
say ' she never liked to lose anything she had learnt.' 
It was always a pleasure, too, if she met with any one 
who could converse with her in French. 

'' I fear these few items will not be of much use, but 
it is difficult to record anything of one who led such a 
quiet and retiring, but useful life." 

*' My recollections of Miss Wooler,** writes Miss Nussey , 
" are, that she was short and stout, but graceful in her 
movements, very fluent in conversation and with a very 
sweet voice. She had Charlotte and myself to stay with 
her sometimes after we left school. We had dehghtful 
sitting-up times with her when the pupils had gone to 
bed. She would treat us so confidentially, relating her 
six years* residence in the Isle of Wight with an uncle 
and aunt — Dr. More and his wife. Dr. More was on the 
military staff, and the society of the island had claims 
upon him. Mrs. More was a fine woman and very 
benevolent. Personally, Miss Wooler was like a lady 
abbess. She wore white, well-fitting dresses embroi- 
dered. Her long hair plaited, formed a coronet, and 
long large ringlets fell from her head to shoulders. She 
was not pretty or handsome, but her quiet dignity made 
her presence imposing. She was nobly scrupulous and 
conscientious — a woman of the greatest self-denial. Her 
income was small. She lived on half of it, and gave the 
remainder to charitable objects.** 

It is clear that Charlotte was very fond of her school- 
mistress, althou gh they had one serious difference during 
the brief period of her stay at Dewsbury Moor with Anne. 
Anne was home-sick and ill, and Miss Wooler, with her 
own robust constitution, found it difficult to understand 
Anne's illness. Charlotte, in arms for her sister, spoke 

242 



Margaret Wooler 

out with vehemence, and both the sisters went home 
soon afterwards. Here are a bundle of letters addressed 
to Miss Wooler. 

TO MISS WOOLER 

Haworth^ August 2^thj 1848. 

My dear Miss Wooler^ — Since you wish to hear from 
me while you are from home, I will wTite without further 
delay. It often happens that when we linger at first in 
answering a friend's letter, obstacles occur to retard us to 
an inexcusably late period. 

In my last I forgot to answer a question you asked me, 
and was sorry afterwards for the omission; I will begin, 
therefore, by replying to it, though I fear what I can give 
will now come a little late. You said Mrs. Chapham had 
some thoughts of sending her daughter to school, and 
wished to know whether the Clerg\' Daughters' School at 
Casterton was an ehgible place. 

My personal knowledge of that institution is very much 
out of date, being derived from the experience of twenty 
years ago; the establishment was at that time in its 
infancy, and a sad rickety infancy it was. T^-phus fever 
decimated the school periodically, and consumption and 
scrofula in every variety of form, which bad air and water, 
and bad, insufficient diet can generate, preyed on the ill- 
fated pupils. It would not then have been a fit place for 
any of Mrs. Chapham's children. But, I understand, it is 
very much altered for the better since those days. The 
school is removed from Cowan Bridge (a situation as un- 
healthy as it was picturesque — low, damp, beautiful with 
wood and water) to Casterton; the accommodation, the 
diet, the discipline, the system of tuition, aU are, I believe, 
entirely altered and greatly improved. I was told that 
such pupils as behaved well and remained at school till 
their educations were finished were provided with situa- 
tions as governesses if they wish to adopt that vocation, 
and that much care was exercised in the selection; it was 
added they were also furnished with an excellent wardrobe 
on quitting Casterton. 

243 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

If I have the opportunity of reading The Life of Dr. 
Arnold, I shall not fail to profit thereby; your recommenda- 
tion makes me desirous to see it. Do you remember once 
speaking with approbation of a book called Mrs. Leicester's 
School jwhich you said you had met with, and you wondered 
by whom it was written? I was reading the other day 
a lately published collection of the Letters of Charles Lamb, 
edited by Serjeant Talfourd^ where I found it mxcntioned 
that Mrs. Leicester's School was the first production of 
Lamb and his sister. These letters are themselves 
singularly interesting; they have hitherto been suppressed 
in all previous collections of Lamb's works and relics, on 
account of the frequent allusions they contain to the 
unhappy malady of Miss Lamb, and a frightful incident 
which darkened her earlier years. She was, it appears, a 
woman of the sweetest disposition, and, in her normal 
state, of the highest and clearest intellect, but afflicted 
with periodical insanity which came on once a year, or 
oftener. To her parents she was a most tender and dutiful 
daughter, nursing them in their old age, when one was 
physically and the other mentally infirm, with unremitting 
care, and at the same time toiling to add something by 
needlework to the slender resources of the family. A suc- 
cession of laborious days and sleepless nights brought 
on a frenzy fit, in which she had the miserable misfortune 
to kill her own mother. She was afterwards placed in a 
mad-house, where she would have been detained for life, 
had not her brother Charles promised to devote himself to 
her and take her under his care — and for her sake renounce 
a project of marriage he then entertained. An instance of 
abnegation of self scarcely, I think, to be paralleled in the 
annals of the '^ coarser sex." They passed their subse- 
quent lives together — models of fraternal affection, and 
would have been very happy but for the dread visitation 
to which Mary Lamb continued liable all her life. I 
thought it both a sad and edifying history. Your account 
of your little niece's naive delight in beholding the morn- 
ing sea for the first time amused and pleased me; it proves 
she has some sensations — a refreshing circumstance in a 

244 



Margaret Wooler 



day and generation when the natural phenomenon of 
children wholly destitute of all pretension to the same is 
by no means an unusual occurrence. 

I have written a long letter as you requested me^ but 
I fear you will not find it very amusing. With love to 
your little companion^ — Believe me, my dear Miss Wooler, 
yours affectionately and respectfully, C. Bronte. 

Papa, I am most thankful to say, continues in very good 
health, considering his age. My sisters likewise are 
pretty well. 

TO MISS WOOLER 

Haworth, March 315^, 1848. 

My dear Miss Wooler, — I had been wishing to hear 
from you for some time before I received your last. There 
has been so much sickness during the last winter, and the 
influenza especially has been so severe and so generally 
prevalent, that the sight of suffering around us has fre- 
quently suggested fears for absent friends. Ellen Nussey 
told me, indeed, that neither you nor Miss C. Wooler had 
escaped the influenza, but, since your letter contains no 
allusion to your own health or hers, I trust you are com- 
pletely recovered. I am most thankful to say that papa 
has hitherto been exempted from any attack. My sister 
and myself have each had a visit from it, but Anne is the 
only one with whom it stayed long or did much mischief; 
in her case it was attended with distressing cough and 
fever; but she is now better, though it has left her chest 
weak. 

I remember well wishing my lot had been cast in the 
troubled times of the late war, and seeing in its exciting 
incidents a kind of stimulating charm which it made my 
pulse beat fast only to think of — I remember even, I think, 
being a little impatient that you would not fully sympathise 
with my feelings on this subject, that you heard my 
aspirations and speculations very tranquilly, and by no 
means seemed to think the flaming sword could be any 
pleasant addition to the joys of paradise. I have now 

245 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

outlived youth; and^ though I dare not say that I have 
outhved all its illusions^ that the romance is quite gone 
from life, the veil fallen from truth, and that I see both 
in naked reality, yet, certainly, many things are not to me 
what they were ten years ago; and amongst the rest, 
'' the pomp and circumstance of war " have quite lost 
in my eyes their factitious glitter. I have still no doubt 
that the shock of moral earthquakes wakens a vivid sense 
of Hfe both in nations and individuals; that the fear of 
dangers on a broad national scale diverts men's minds 
momentarily from brooding over small private perils, 
and, for the time, gives them something like largeness of 
views ; but, as little doubt have I that convulsive revolu- 
tions put back the world in all that is good, check civilisa- 
tion, bring the dregs of society to its surface — in short, 
it appears to me that insurrections and battles are the 
acute diseases of nations, and that their tendency is to 
exhaust by their violence the vital energies of the countries 
where they occur. That England may be spared the 
spasms, cramps, and frenzy-fits now contorting the 
Continent and threatening Ireland, I earnestly pray ! 

With the French and Irish I have no sympathy. With 
the Germans and Italians I think the case is different — as 
different as the love of freedom is from the lust of license. 



TO MISS WOOLER 

Ha WORTH, Septe7nher 2'jth^ 1850. 

My dear Miss Wooler, — When I tell you that I have 
already been to the Lakes this season, and that it is 
scarcely more than a month since I returned, you will 
understand that it is no longer within my power to accept 
your kind invitation. 

I wish I could have gone to you. I wish your invitation 
had come first; to speak the truth, it would have suited 
me better than the one by which I profited. It would have 
been pleasant, soothing, in many ways beneficial, to have 
spent two weeks with you in your cottage-lodgings. But 
these reflections are vain. I have already had my 

246 



Marp-aret Wooler 



excursion^ and there is an end of it. Sir J. K. Shuttle- 
worth is residing near Windermere, at a house called 
*^ The Briary/' and it w^s there I was staying for a Httle 
while in August. He very kindly showed me the scenery 
— as it can he seen jrom a carriage — and I discerned that 
the " Lake Country " is a glorious region, of which I had 
only seen the similitude in dream — waking or sleeping. 
But, my dear Miss Wooler, I only half enjoyed it, because 
I was only half at my ease. Decidedly I find it does not 
agree with me to prosecute the search of the picturesque 
in a carriage ; a waggon, a spring-cart, even a post-chaise 
might do, but the carriage upsets ever}i:hing. I longed 
to sHp out unseen, and to run away by myself in amongst 
the hills and dales. Erratic and vagrant instincts tor- 
mented me, and these I was obliged to control, or rather, 
suppress, for fear of growing in any degree enthusiastic, 
and thus drawing attention to the " lioness," the authoress, 
the artist. Sir J. K. Shuttleworth is a man of ability and 
intellect, but not a man in whose presence one wilHngly 
unbends. 

You say you suspect I have found a large circle of ac- 
quaintance by this time. No, I cannot say that I have. 
I doubt whether I possess either the wish or the power to 
do so. A few friends I should like to know well; if such 
knowledge brought proportionate regard I could not help 
concentrating my feelings. Dissipation, I think, appears 
s\Tion\Tiious with dilution. However, I have as yet 
scarcely been tried. During the month I spent in London 
in the spring, I kept very quiet, having the fear of '' lion- 
ising " before my eyes. I only went out once to dinner, 
and was once present at an evening party; and the only 
visits I have paid have been to Sir J. K. Shuttleworth 
and my pubHshers. From this system I should not like to - 
depart. As far as I can see, indiscriminate visiting tends 
only to a waste of time and a vulgarising of character. 
Besides, it would be wrong to leave papa often; he is now 
in his 75th year, the infirmities of age begin to creep upon 
him. During the summer he has been much harassed by 
chronic bronchitis, but, I am thankful to say, he is now 

247 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

somewhat better. I think my own health has derived 
benefit from change and exercise. 

You ask after Ellen Nussey. iVhen I saw Ellen, about 
two months ago, she looked remarkably well. I some- 
times hear small fragments of gossip which amuse me. 
Somebody professes to have authority for saying that 
'' When Miss Bronte was in London she neglected to 
attend divine service on the Sabbath, and in the week 
spent her time in going about to balls, theatres, and 
operas." On the other hand, the London quidnuncs make 
my seclusion a matter of wonder, and devise twenty 
romantic fictions to account for it. Formerly I used to 
listen to report with interest and a certain credulity; 
I am now grown deaf and sceptical. Experience has 
taught me how absolutely devoid of foundations her 
stories may be. 

With the sincere hope that your own health is better, 
and kind remembrances to all old friends whenever you 
see them or write to them (and whether or not their 
feeling to me has ceased to be friendly, which I fear is the 
case in some instances), — I am, my dear Miss Wooler, 
always yours, affectionately and respectfully, 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS WOOLER 

Haworth, July i4ihj 1851. 

My dear Miss Wooler, — My first feeling on receiving 
your note was one of disappointment; but a little con- 
sideration sufficed to show me that '' all was for the best.'* 
In truth, it was a great piece of extravagance on my part 
to ask you and Ellen together; it is much better to divide 
such good things. To have your visit in prospect will 
console me when hers is in retrospect. Not that I mean 
to yield to the weakness of clinging dependently to the 
society of friends, however dear, but still as an occasional 
treat I must value and even seek such society as a necessary 
of life. Let me know, then, whenever it suits your con- 
venience to come to Haworth, and, unless some change 

248 



Margaret Wooler 



I cannot now foresee occurs^ a ready and warm welcome 
will await you. Should there be any cause rendering it 
desirable to defer the visit; I will tell you frankly. 

The pleasures of society I cannot offer you^ nor those of 
fine scenery^ but I place very much at your command the 
moors, some books, a series of '' curling-hair times/' and 
an old pupil into the bargain. Ellen may have told you 
that I have spent a month in London this summer. When 
you come you shall ask what questions you like on that 
point, and I will answer to the best of my stammering 
ability. Do not press me much on the subject of the 
" Crystal Palace." I went there five times, and certainly 
saw some interesting things, and the coup d^ostl is striking 
and bewildering enough, but I never was able to get up 
any raptures on the subject, and each renewed visit was 
made under coercion rather than my own free-will. It is 
an excessively bustling place; and, after all, its wonders 
appeal too exclusively to the eye and rarely touch the 
heart or head. I make an exception to the last assertion 
in favour of those who possess a large range of scientific 
knowledge. Once I went with Sir David Brewster, and 
perceived that he looked on objects with other eyes than 
mine. 

Ellen I find is writing, and will therefore deliver her own 
messages of regard. If papa were in the room he would, I 
know, desire his respects ; and you must take both respects 
and a good bundle of something more cordial from yours 
very faithfully, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

October yd, 185 1. 

Dear Nell, — Do not think I have forgotten you because 
I have not written since your last. Every day I have had 
you more or less in my thoughts, and wondered how your 
mother was getting on; let me have a line of information 
as soon as possible. I have been busy, first with a some- 
what unexpected visitor, a cousin from Cornwall, who has 
been spending a few days with us, and now with Miss 

249 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Wooler^ who came on Monday. The former personage 
we can discuss any time when we meet. Miss Wooler is 
and has been very pleasant. She is hke good wine: I 
think time improves her; and really whatever she may 
be in person^ in mind she is younger than when at Roe 
Head. Papa and she get on extremely well. I have just 
heard papa walk into the dining-room and pay her a round 
compliment on her good-sense. I think so far she has 
been pretty comfortable and likes Haworth, but as she 
only brought a small hand-basket of luggage with her she 
cannot stay long. 

How are you ? Write directly. With my love to your 
mother^ etc.^ good-bye^ dear Nell. — Yours faithfully, 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS WOOLER 

February 6th , 1850. 

Ellen Nussey, it seems, told you I spent a fortnight in 
London last December; they wished me very much to 
stay a month, alleging that I should in that time be able 
to secure a complete circle of acquaintance, but I found a 
fortnight of such excitement quite enough. The whole 
day was usually spent in sight-seeing, and often the even- 
ing was spent in society; it was more than I could bear 
for a length of time. On one occasion I met a party of 
my critics — seven of them; some of them had been very 
bitter foes in print, but they were prodigiously civil face 
to face. These gentlemen seemed infinitely grander, more 
pompous, dashing, showy, than the few authors I saw. 
Mr. Thackeray, for instance, is a man of quiet, simple 
demeanour; he is however looked upon with some awe 
and even distrust. His conversation is very peculiar, too 
perverse to be pleasant. It was proposed to me to see 
Charles Dickens, Lady Morgan, Mesdames Trollope, Gore, 
and some others, but I was aware these introductions 
would bring a degree of notoriety I was not disposed to 
encounter; I declined, therefore, with thanks. 

Nothing charmed me more during my stay in town than 

250 



Margaret Wooler 

the pictures I saw. One or two private collections of 
Turner's best water-colour drawings were indeed a treat; 
his later oil-paintings are strange things — things that 
baffle description. 

I twice saw Macreadv act — once in Macbeth and once in 
Othello. I astonished a dinner-party by honestly saying 
I did not like him. It is the fashion to rave about his 
splendid acting. Anything more false and artificial^ less 
genuinely impressive than his whole style I could scarcely 
have imagined. The fact is^ the stage-system altogether 
is hollow nonsense. They act farces well enough: the 
actors comprehend their parts and do them justice. They 
comprehend nothing about tragedy or Shakespeare, and 
it is a failure. I said so; and by so saying produced 
a blank silence — a mute consternation. I was, indeed, 
obliged to dissent on many occasions, and to offend by 
dissenting. It seems now very much the custom to admire 
a certain wordy, intricate, obscure style of poetry, such as 
Elizabeth Barrett Browming wTites. Some pieces were 
referred to about which Currer Bell was expected to be 
very rapturous, and failing in this, he disappointed. 

London people strike a provincial as being very much 
taken up with little matters about which no one out of 
particular town-circles cares much; they talk, too, of 
persons — literary men and women — whose names are 
scarcely heard in the country, and in whom you cannot 
get up an interest. I think I should scarcely like to live 
in London, and were I obliged to live there, I should 
certainly go little into company, especially I should 
eschew the literary coteries. 

You told me, my dear Miss Wooler, to write a long 
letter. I have obeyed you. — Believe me now, yours 
affectionately and respectfully, C. Broxte. 

TO MISS WOOLER 

Haworth, September 2nd, 1852. 

My dear Miss Wooler, — I have delayed answering 
your very kind letter till I could speak decidedly respect- 
ing papa's health. For some weeks after the attack there 

251 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

were frequent variations^ and once a threatening of a 
relapse^ but I trust his convalescence may now be re- 
garded as confirmed. The acute inflammation of the eye, 
which distressed papa so much as threatening loss of 
sight, but which I suppose was merely s}Taptomatic of the 
rush of blood to the brain, is now quite subsided: the 
partial paralysis has also disappeared; the appetite is 
better; weakness with occasional slight giddiness seem 
now the only lingering traces of disease. I am assured 
that with papa's excellent constitution, there is every 
prospect of his still being spared to me for many years. 

For two things I have reason to be most thankful, viz., 
that the mental faculties have remained quite untouched, 
and also that my own health and strength have been found 
sufficient for the occasion. Solitars' as I certainly was at 
Filev, I vet derived sjeat benefit from the chansfe. 

It would be pleasant at the sea-side this fine warm 
weather, and I should dearly like to be there with you; 
to such a treat, however, I do not now look forward at all. 
You will fully understand the impossibihty of my enjoying 
peace of mind during absence from papa under present 
circumstances; his strength must be very much more 
fully restored before I can think of leaving home. 

My dear Miss Wooler, in case you should go to Scarboro' 
this season, m.ay I request you to pay one visit to the 
churchyard and see if the inscription on the stone has been 
altered as I directed. We have heard nothing since on 
the subject, and I fear the alteration may have been 
neglected. 

Ellen has made a long stay in the south, but I believe 
she will soon return now, and I am looking forward to the 
pleasure of having her company in the autumn. 

With kind regards to all old friends, and sincere love to 
yourself, — I am, my dear Miss Wooler, yours affectionately 
and respectfully, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS WOOLER 

Ha WORTH, September 21st, 1852. 
My dear Miss Wooler, — I was truly sorry to hear that 

252 



Margaret Woole: 



when Ellen called at the Parsonage you were suffering 
from influenza. I know that an attack of this debilitating 
complaint is no trifle in your case, as its effects linger with 
you long. It has been very prevalent in this neighbour- 
hood. I did not escape, but the sickness and fever only 
lasted a few days and the cough was not severe. Papa, 
I am thankful to say. continues pretty well: Ellen thinks 
him little, if at all altered. 

And now for your kind present. The book will be 
precious to me — chiefly, perhaps, for the sake of the giver, 
but also for its o^n sake, for it is a good book; and I wish 
I may be enabled to read it with some approach to the 
spirit you would desire. Its perusal came recommended 
in such a manner as to obviate danger of neglect : its place 
shall alwavs be on mv dressinsf-table. 

As to the other part of the present, it arrived under these 
circumstances : 

For a month past an urgent necessity to buy and make 
some things for winter-wear had been importuning my 
conscience: the buvino mis^ht be soo eff'ected, but the 
making was a more serious consideration. At this juncture 
Ellen arrives with a good-sized parcel, which, when opened, 
discloses the things I required, perfectly made and of 
capital useful fabric ; adorned too — which seemly decora- 
tion it is but too probable I might myself have foregone 
as an augmentation of trouble not to be lightly incurred. 
I felt strong doubts as to my right to profit by this sor 
of fairy gift, so unlocked for and so curiously opportune; 
on reading the note accompan}'ing the garments, I am 
told that to accept will be to confer a favour (!) The 
doctrine is too palatable to be rejected: I even waive all 
nice scrutiny of its soundness — in short, I submit with as 
good a grace as may be. 

Ellen has only been my companion one little week. I 
would not have her any longer, for I am disgusted with 
myself and my delays, and consider it was a weak \4elding 
to temptation in me to send for her at all; but, in truth, 
my spirits were getting low — prostrate sometimes, and she 
has done me inexpressible good. I wonder when I shall 



253 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

see you at Haworth again. Both my father and the 
servants have again and again insinuated a distinct wish 
that you should be requested to come in the course of the 
summer and autumn, but I always turned a deaf ear: 
'* Not yet/' was my thought, '* I want first to be free — 
work first, then pleasure." 

I venture to send by Ellen a book which may amuse an 
hour : a Scotch tale by a minister's wife. It seems to me 
well told, and may serve to remind you of characters and 
manners you have seen in Scotland. When you have time 
write a line, I shall feel anxious to hear how you are. 
With kind regards to all old friends, and truest affection 
to yourself, in which Ellen joins me, — I am, my dear Miss 
Wooler, yours gratefully and respectfully, 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS WOOLER 

Haworth, October Sth, 1853. 

My dear Miss Wooler, — I wished much to write to you 
immediately on my return home, but I found several little 
matters demanding attention, and have been kept busy 
till now. 

I reached home about five o'clock in the afternoon, and 
the anxiety which is inseparable from a return after absence 
was pleasantly relieved by finding papa well and cheerful. 
He inquired after you with interest. I gave him your 
kind regards, and he specially charged me whenever I 
wrote to present his in return, and to say also that he 
hoped to see you at Haworth at the earhest date which 
shall be convenient to you. 

The week I spent at Hornsea was a happy and pleasant 
week. Thank you, my dear Miss Wooler, for the true 
kindness which gave it its chief charm. I shall think of 
you often, especially when I walk out, and during the long 
evenings. I beUeve the weather has at length taken a 
turn: to-day is beautifully fine. I wish I were at Hornsea 
and just now preparing to go out with you to walk on the 
sands or along the lake. 

254 



Margaret Wooler 



I would not have you to fatigue yourself with writing to 
me when you are not inclined^ but yet I should be glad to 
hear from you some day ere long. When you do write^ tell 
me how you liked The Experience of Life, and whether you 
have read Esmond, and what you think of it. — Believe me 
always yours^ with true affection and respect^ 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS WOOLER 

BrookroyD; December jth, 1852. 

My dear Miss Wooler^ — Since you were so kind as to 
take some interest in my small tribulation of Saturday, I 
write a line to tell you that on Sunday morning a letter 
came which put me out of pain and obviated the necessity 
of an impromptu journey to London. 

The money transaction, of course, remains the same, and 
perhaps is not quite equitable ; but when an author finds 
that his work is cordially approved, he can pardon the 
rest — indeed, my chief regret now lies in the conviction 
that papa will be disappointed: he expected me to earn 
£500, nor did I myself anticipate that a lower sum would 
be offered; however, £250 is not to be despised.^ 

Your sudden departure from Brookroyd left a legacy of 
consternation to the bereaved breakfast-table. Ellen was 
not easily to be soothed, though I diligently represented to 
her that you had quitted Haworth with the same in- 
exorable haste. I am commissioned to tell you, first, that 
she has decided not to go to Yarmouth till after Christmas, 
her mother's health having within the last few days be- 
trayed some symptoms not unlike those which preceded 
her former illness ; and though it is to be hoped that those 
may pass without any untoward result, yet they naturally 
increase Ellen's reluctance to leave home for the present. 

Secondly, I am to say, that when the present you left 
came to be examined, the costliness and beauty of it 

1 Miss Bronte was paid ^^^500 in all for her three novels, and Mr. 
Nicholls received an additional £250 for the copyright of The 
Professor. 

255 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

inspired some concern. Ellen thinks you are too kind^ as 
I also think every mornings for I am now benefiting by 
your kind gift. 

With sincere regards to all at the Parsonage^ — I am, 
my dear Miss Wooler, yours respectfully and affectionately, 

C. Bronte. 

P.S. — I shall direct that Esmond (Mr. Thackeray's work) 
shall be sent on to you as soon as the Hunsworth party 
have read it. It has already reached a second edition. 

TO MISS WOOLER 

January 2ph, 1853. 

My dear Miss Wooler, — I received your letter here in 
London where I have been staying about three weeks, and 
shall probably remain a few days longer. Villette is to be 
published to-morrow. Its appearance has been purposely 
delayed hitherto, to avoid discourteous clashing with Mrs. 
Gaskell's new work. Your name was one of the first on 
the list of presentees, and directed to the Parsonage, 
w^here I shall also send this letter, as you mention that you 
are to leave Halifax at the close of this week. I will bear 
in mind what you say about Mrs. Morgan; and should I 
ever have an opportunity of serving her, will not omit 
to do so. I only wish my chance of being useful were 
greater. Schools seem to be considered almost obsolete 
in London. Ladies' colleges, with professors for every 
branch of instruction, are superseding the old-fashioned 
seminary. How the system will work I can't tell. I 
think the college classes might be very useful for finishing 
the education of ladies intended to go out as governesses, 
but what progress little girls will make in them seems to 
me another question. 

My dear Miss Wooler, I read attentively all you say 
about Miss Martineau; the sincerity and constancy of 
your solicitude touches me very much. I should grieve to 
neglect or oppose your advice, and yet I do not feel that it 
would be right to give Miss Martineau up entirely. There 
is in her nature much that is very noble. Hundreds have 

256 



Margaret Wooler 

forsaken her^ more, I fear, in the apprehension that their 
fair names may suffer if seen in connection with hers, than 
from any pure convictions, such as you suggest, of harm 
consequent on her fatal tenets. With these fair-weather 
friends I cannot bear to rank. And for her sin, is it not 
one of those which God and not man must judge? 

To speak the truth, my dear Miss Wooler, I believe if 
you were in my place, and knew Miss Martineau as I do — 
if you had shared with me the proofs of her rough but 
genuine kindliness, and had seen how she secretly suffers 
from abandonment, you would be the last to give her up; 
you would separate the sinner from the sin, and feel as if 
the right lay rather in quietly adhering to her in her strait, 
while that adherence is unfashionable and unpopular, 
than in turning on her your back when the world sets the 
example. I believe she is one of those whom opposition 
and desertion make obstinate in error, while patience and 
tolerance touch her deeply and keenly, and incline her to 
ask of her own heart whether the course she has been 
pursuing may not possibly be a faulty course. However, 
I have time to think of this subject, and I shall think of it 
seriously. 

As to what I have seen in London during my present 
visit, I hope one day to tell you all about it by our fireside 
at home. When you write again will you name a time 
when it would suit you to come and see me; everybody in 
the house would be glad of your presence; your last visit 
is pleasantly remembered by all. 

With kindest regards, — I am always, affectionately and 
respectfully yours, C. Bronte. 

A note to Miss Nussey written after Charlotte's death 
indicates a fairly shrewd view on the part of Miss Wooler 
as regards the popularity of her friend. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

My dear Miss Ellen, — The third edition of Charlotte^s 
Life has at length ventured out. Our curate tells me he is 
assured it is quite inferior to the former ones. So you see 

257 I 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Mrs. Gaskell displayed worldly wisdom in going out of her 
way to furnish gossip for the discerning public. Did I 
mention to you that Mrs. Gibson knows two or three young 
ladies in Hull who finished their education at Mme. 
Heger's pension? Mrs. G. said they read Villette with 
keen interest — of course they would. I had a nice walk 
with a Suffolk lady, who was evidently delighted to meet 
with one who had personally known our dear C. B., and 
would not soon have wearied of a conversation in which 
she w^as the topic. — Love to yourself and sisters, from — 
Your affectionate, M. Wooler. 



258 



CHAPTER XI 

THE CURATES AT HAWORTH 

Something has already been said concerning the growth 
of the population of Haworth during the period of Mr. 
Bronte's Incumbency. It was 4668 in 1821, and 6301 
in 1 84 1. This makes it natural that Mr. Bronte should 
have applied to his Bishop for assistance in his pastoral 
duty, and such aid was permanently granted him in 
1838, when Mr. William Weigh tman became his second 
curate.^ Mr. Weigh tman would appear to have been a 
favourite. He many times put in an appearance at the 
parsonage, although I do not recognise him in any one of 
Charlotte's novels, and he certainly has no place among 
the three famous curates of Shirley, He would seem 
to have been the only man, other than her father and 
brother, whom Emily was known to tolerate. We know 
that the girls considered him effeminate, and they called 
him " Celia Amelia,'* under which name he frequently 
appears in Charlotte's letters to Ellen Nussey. That 
he was good-natured seems to be indisputable. There 
is one story of his walking to Bradford to post valentines 
to the incumbent's daughters, when he found they had 
never received any. There is another story of a trip to 
Keighley to hear him lecture. He was a bit of a poet, 
it seems, and Ellen Nussey was the heroine of some of 
his verses when she visited at Haworth. Here is a letter 
which throws some light upon Charlotte's estimate of the 
young man — he was twenty-five years of age at this 
time. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

March I'jth, 1840. 

My dear Mrs. Eleanor^ — I wish to scold you with 

a forty-horse power for having told Mary Taylor that I 

had requested you not to tell her everything^ which piece 

^ A Mr. Hodgson is spoken of earlier, but he would seem to have 
been only a temporary help. 

259 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

of information has thrown her into tremendous ill-humour, 
besides setting the teeth of her curiosity on edge. Tell 
her forthwith every individual occurrence, including 
valentines, "Fair E — , Fair E — /' etc.; *' Away fond 
love/' etc.; "Soul divine/' and all; likewise the paint- 
ing of Miss Celia Amelia Weightman's portrait, and that 
young lady's frequent and agreeable visits. By-the-bye, 
I inquired into the opinion of that intelligent and interest- 
ing young person respecting you. It was a favourable 
one. " She " thought you a fine-looking girl, and a very 
good girl into the bargain. Have you received the news- 
paper which has been despatched, containing a notice of 
"her" lecture at Keighley.^ Mr. Morgan came and 
stayed three days. By Miss Weightman's aid, we got 
on pretty well. It was amazing to see with what patience 
and good-temper the innocent creature endured that fat 
Welshman's prosing, though she confessed afterwards 
that she was almost done up by his long stories. We feel 
very dull without you. I wish those three weeks were to 
come over again. Aunt has been at times precious cross 
since you went — however, she is rather better now. I 
had a bad cold on Sunday and stayed at home most of 
the day. Anne's cold is better, but I don't consider her 
strong yet. What did your sister Anne say about my 
omitting to send a drawing for the Jew basket.^ I hope 
she was too much occupied with the thoughts of going 
to Earnley to think of it. I am obliged to cut short my 
letter. Everybody in the house unites in sending their 
love to you. Miss Celia Amelia Weightman also desires 
to be remembered. Write soon again and — Believe me, 
yours unalterably. Charivari. 

He would seem to have been a much teased curate. 
Now it is Miss Ellen Nussey, now a Miss Agnes Walton, 
who is supposed to be the object of his devotion. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April gihj 1840. 
My dear Mrs. Menelaus, — I think I am exceed- 
ingly good to write to you so soon, indeed I am quite 

260 



The Curates at Haworth 

afraid you will begin to consider me intrusive with my 
frequent letters. I ought by right to let an interval of a 
quarter of a year elapse between each communication^ 
and I will^ in time; never fear me. I shall improve in 
procrastination as I get older. 

My hand is trembling like that of an old man^ so I don't 
expect you will be able to read my writing; never mind, 
put the letter by and I'll read it to you the next time I 
see you. 

I have been painting a portrait of Agnes Walton for 
our friend Miss Celia Amelia. You would laugh to see 
how his eyes sparkle with delight when he looks at it, 
like a pretty child pleased with a new plaything. Good- 
bye to you. Let me have no more of your humbug about 
Cupid, etc. You know as well as I do it is all groundless 
trash. C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

August 2othj 1840. 

Dear Mrs. Ellen, — I was very well pleased with your 
capital long letter. A better farce than the whole affair 
of that letter-opening (ducks and Mr. Weightman in- 
cluded) was never imagined.^ By-the-bye, speaking of 
Mr. W., I told you he was gone to pass his examination 
at Ripon six weeks ago. He is not come back yet, and 
what has become of him we don't know. Branwell has 
received one letter since he went, speaking rapturously 
of Agnes Walton, describing certain balls at which he had 
figured, and announcing that he had been twice over head 
and ears desperately in love. It is my devout belief that 
his reverence left Haworth with the fixed intention of 
never returning. If he does return, it will be because he 
has not been able to get a " living." Haworth is not the 
place for him. He requires novelty, a change of faces, 
difficulties to be overcome. He pleases so easily that he 
soon gets weary of pleasing at all. He ought not to have 

^ Referring to a present of birds which the curate had sent to 
Miss Nussey. 

261 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

been a parson; certainly he ought not. Our august re- 
ktions^ as you choose to call them, are gone back to 
London. They never stayed with us^ they only spent 
one day at our house. Have you seen anything of the 
Miss Woolers lately? I wish they, or somebody else, 
would get me a situation. I have answered advertise- 
ments without number, but my applications have met 
with no success. Caliban. 

One wonders if a single letter by Charlotte Bronte 
applying for a '' situation " has been preserved! I have 
not seen one, 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

September 2gth, 1840. 
I know Mrs. Ellen is burning with eagerness to hear 
something about William Weigh tman. I think I'll 
plague her by not telling her a word. To speak heaven's 
truth, I have precious little to say, inasmuch as I seldom 
see him, except on a Sunday, when he looks as handsome, 
cheery, and good-tempered as usual. I have indeed had 
the advantage of one long conversation since his return 
from Westmorland, when he poured out his whole warm 
fickle soul in fondness and admiration of Agnes Walton. 
Whether he is in love with her or not I can't say; I can 
only observe that it sounds very like it. He sent us a 
prodigious quantity of game while he was away — a brace 
of wild ducks, a brace of black grouse, a brace of part- 
ridges, ditto of snipes, ditto of curlews, and a large salmon. 
If you were to ask Mr. Weightman's opinion of my char- 
acter just now, he would say that at first he thought me 
a cheerful chatty kind of body, but that on farther ac- 
quaintance he found me of a capricious changeful temper, 
3iever to be reckoned on. He does not know that I have 
regulated my manner by his — that I was cheerful and 
chatty so long as he was respectful, and that when he grew 
almost contemptuously familiar I found it necessary to 
adopt a degree of reserve which was not natural and 
therefore was very painful to me. I find this reserve very 
convenient, and consequently I intend to keep it up. 

262 



The Curates at Haworth 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

November 12th, 1840. 

My dear Nell. — You will excuse this scrawled sheet 
of paper^ inasmuch as I happen to be out of that article, 
this being the only available sheet I can find in my desk 
I have effaced one of the delectable portraitures, but 
have spared the others — lead pencil sketches of horse's 
head, and man's head — being moved to that act of 
clemence by the recollection that they are not the work 
of my hand, but of the sacred fingers of his reverence 
William Weightman. You will discern that the eye is a 
little too elevated in the horse's head, otherwise I can 
assure you it is no such bad attempt. It shows taste and 
something of an artist's eye. The fellow had no copy for 
it. He sketched it, and one or two other little things, 
when he happened to be here one evening, but you should 
ha\'e seen the vanity with which he afterwards regarded 
his productions. One of them represented the flying 
figure of Fame inscribing his ovrTi name on the clouds. 

Mrs. Brook and I have interchanged letters. She ex- 
pressed herself pleased with the style of my application — 
with its candour, etc. (I took care to tell her that if she 
wanted a showy, elegant, fashionable personage, I was 
not the man for her), but she wants music and singing, 
I can't give her music and singing, so of course the negotia- 
tion is null and void. Being once up, however, I don't 
mean to sit down till I have got what I want; but there 
is no sense in talking about unfinished projects, so we'll 
drop the subject. Consider this last sentence a hint from 
me to be applied practically. It seems Miss Wooler's 
school is in a consumptive state of health. I have been 
endeavouring to obtain a reinforcement of pupils for her, 
but I cannot succeed, because Mrs. Heap is opening a new 
school in Bradford. C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

January 10th, 1841. 
My dear Ellen, — I promised to write to you, and 

263 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

therefore I must keep my promise, though I have neither 
much to say nor much time to say it in. 

Mary Taylor's visit has been a very pleasant one to us, 
and I believe to herself also. She and Mr. Weightman 
have had several games at chess, which generally ter- 
minated in a species of mock hostihty. Mr. Weightman 
is better in health; but don't set your heart on him, I'm 
afraid he is very fickle — not to you in particular, but to 
half a dozen other ladies. He has just cut his inamorata 
at Swansea, and sent her back all her letters. His present 
object of devotion is Caroline Dury, to whom he has just 
despatched a most passionate copy of verses. Poor lad, 
his sanguine temperament bothers him grievously. 

That Swansea affair seems to me somewhat heartless as 
far as I can understand it, though I have not heard a very 
clear explanation. He sighs as much as ever. I have not 
mentioned your name to him yet, nor do I m.ean to do so 
until I have a fair opportunity of gathering his real mind. 
Perhaps I may never mention it at all, but on the contrary 
carefully avoid all allusion to you. It will just depend 
upon the further opinion I may form of his character. I 
am not pleased to find that he was carrying on a regular 
correspondence with this lady at Swansea all the time he 
was paying such pointed attention to you; and now the 
abrupt way in which he has cut her off, and the evident 
wandering instability of his mind is no favourable symptom 
at all. I shall not have many opportunities of observing 
him for a month to come. As for the next fortnight, he 
will be sedulously engaged in preparing for his ordination, 
and the fortnight after he will spend at Appleby and 
Crackenthorp with Mr. and Miss Walton. Don't think 
about him; I am not afraid you will break your heart, 
but don't think about him. 

Give my love to Mercy and your mother, and, — Believe 
me, yours sincerely, ^a'ira. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Rawdon, March yd, 1841. 
My dear Ellen, — I dare say you have received a 

264 



The Curates at Haworth 

valentine this year from our bonny-faced friend the curate 
of Haworth. I got a precious specimen a few days before 
I left home^ but I knew better how to treat it than I did 
those we received a year ago. I am up to the dodges and 
artifices of his lordship's character. He knows I know 
him, and you cannot conceive how quiet and respectful 
he has long been. Mind I am not writing against him — 
I never will do that. I like him very much. I honour 
and admire his generous^ open disposition^ and sweet 
temper — but for all the tricks, wiles, and insincerities of 
love, the gentleman has not his match for twenty miles 
round. He would fain persuade every woman under 
thirty w^hom he sees that he is desperately in love with her. 
I have a great deal more to say, but I have not a moment's 
time to write it in. — My dear Ellen, do write to me soon, 
don't forget. — Good-bye. 

Our revered friend W. W., is quite as bonny, pleasant, 
light-hearted, good-tempered, generous, careless, fickle, 
and unclerical as ever. He keeps up his correspondence 
with Agnes Walton. During the last spring he went to 
Appleby, and stayed upwards of a month. 

During the governess and Brussels episodes in Char- 
lotte's life we lose sight of Mr. Weightman, and the next 
record is of his death, which took place in September 
1842, while Charlotte and Emily were in Brussels. Mr. 
Bronte preached the funeral sermon,^ stating by way of 
introduction that for the twenty years and more that 
he had been in Haworth he had never before read his 
sermon. '' This is owing to a conviction in my mind," 
he says, '* that in general, for the ordinary run of hearers, 
extempore preaching, though accompanied with some 
peculiar disadvantages, is more likely to be of a collo- 
quial nature, and better adapted, on the whole, to the 
majority." His departure from the practice on this 
occasion, he explains, is due to the request that his 
sermon should be printed. 

^ A Funeral Sermon for the late^Rev. William Weightman, M.A., 
preached in the Church at Haworth on Sunday, the 2nd of October 
1842 by the Rev. Patrick Bronte, A.B., Incumbent. The profits, 
if any, to go in aid of the Sunday School. Halifax — Printed by 
J. U. Walker, George Street, 1842. Price sixpence/ 

26s 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Mr. Weightman, he told his hearers, was a native of 
Westmoreland, educated at the University of Durham. 
*' While he was there," continued Mr. Bronte, " I applied 
to the justly venerated Apostolical Bishop of this diocese, 
requesting his Lordship to send me a curate adequate to 
the wants and wishes of the parishioners. This applica- 
tion was not in vain. Our Diocesan, in the scriptural 
character of the Overlooker and Head of his clergy, 
made an admirable choice, which more than answered 
my expectations, and probably yours. The Church 
Pastoral Aid Society, in their pious liberality, lent their 
pecuniary aid, without which all efforts must have 
failed." " He had classical attainments of the first 
order, and, above all, his religious principles were sound 
and orthodox," concludes Mr. Bronte. Mr. Weightman 
was twenty-seven years of age when he died. His suc- 
cessor was Mr. James William Smith, whom Charlotte 
Bronte has made famous in Shirley as Mr. Malone, curate 
of Briarfield. Mr. Smith was Mr. A. B. NichoUs's 
predecessor at Haworth. Here is Charlotte Bronte's 
vigorous treatment of him in a letter to her friend. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April Kthj 1844. 

Dear Nell^ — We were all very glad to get your letter 
this morning. We, I say^ as both papa and Emily were 
anxious to hear of the safe arrival of yourself and the little 
varmint} 

As you conjecture, Emily and I set to shirt-making the 
very day after you left, and we have stuck to it pretty 
closely ever since. We miss your society at least as much 
as you miss ours, depend upon it. Would that you were 
within calling distance, that you could as you say burst 
in upon us in an afternoon, and, being despoiled of your 
bonnet and shawl, be fixed in the rocking-chair for the 
evening once or twice every week. I certainly cherished 
a dream during your stay that such might one day be the 
case, but the dream is somewhat dissipating. I allude 

__i A little dog, called in the next letter '* Flossie, jiinr.," which 
indicates its parentage. Flossy was the little dog given by the 
3^obinsons to Anne. 

266 



The Curates at Haworth 

of course to Mr. Smithy to whom you do not allude in your 
letter, and I think you foolish for the omission. I say 
the dream is dissipating, because Mr. Smith has not 
mentioned your name since you left, except once when 
papa said you were a nice girl, he said, '^ Yes, she is a nice 
girl — rather quiet. I suppose she has money," and that is 
all. I think the words speak volumes; they do not preju- 
dice one in favour of Mr. Smith. I can well believe w^hat 
papa has often affirmed, and continues to affirm, i.e., that 
Mr. Smith is a very fickle man, that if he marries he will 
soon get tired of his wife, and consider her as a burden, 
also that money will be a principal consideration with him 
in marrying. 

Papa has two or three times expressed a fear that since 
Mr. Smith paid you so much attention he will perhaps have 
made an impression on your mind which will interfere 
with your comfort. I tell him I think not, as I believe 
you to be mistress of yourself in those matters. Still, he 
keeps saying that I am to write to you and dissuade you 
from thinking of him. I never saw papa make himself 
so uneasy about a thing of the kind before; he is usually 
very sarcastic on such subjects. 

Mr. Smith be hanged! I never thought very well of 
him, and I am much disposed to think very ill of him at 
this blessed minute. I have discussed the subject fully, 
for where is the use of being mysterious and constrained } — 
it is not worth while. 

Be sure you write to me and immediately, and tell me 
whether you have given up eating and drinking altogether. 
I am not surprised at people thinking you looked pale and 
thin. I shall expect another letter on Thursday — don't 
disappoint me. 

My best regards to your mother and sisters. — Yours, 
somewhat irritated, C. B. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Dear Nell, — I did not " swear at the postman " when 
I saw another letter from you. And I hope you will not 
" swear '' at me when I tell you that I cannot think of 

267 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

leaving home at present^ even to have the pleasure of 
joining you at Harrogate, but I am obliged to you for 
thinking of me. I have nothing new about Rev. Lothario 
Smith. I think I like him a little bit less every day. Mr. 
Weightman was worth 200 Mr. Smiths tied in a bunch. 
Good-bye. I fear by what you say, '' Flossy jun.^' behaves 
discreditably, and gets his mistress into scrapes. 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

September 16th, 1844. 

Dear Ellen, — I received your kind note last Saturday, 
and should have answered it immediately, but in the 
meantime I had a letter from Mary Taylor, and had to 
reply to her, and to write sundry letters to Brussels to 
send by opportunity. My sight will not allow me to 
write several letters per day, so I was obliged to do it 
gradually. 

I send you two more circulars because you ask for them, 
not because I hope their distribution will produce any 
result. I hope that if a time should come when Emily, 
Anne, or I shall be able to serve you, we shall not forget 
that you have done your best to serve us. 

Mr. Smith is gone hence. He is in Ireland at present, 
and will stay there six weeks. He has left neither a bad 
nor a good character behind him. Nobody regrets him, 
because nobody could attach themselves to one who could 
attach himself to nobody. I thought once he had a 
regard for you, but I do not think so now. He has never 
asked after you since you left, nor even mentioned you in 
my hearing, except to say once when I purposely alluded 
to you, that you were '^ not very locomotive." The 
meaning of the observation I leave you to divine. 

Yet the man is not without points that will be most 
useful to himself in getting through life. His good 
qualities, however, are all of the selfish order, but they 
will make him respected where better and more generous 
natures would be despised, or at least neglected. 

268 



The Curates at Haworth 

Mr. Grant fills his shoes at present decently enough— 
but one cares naught about these sort of individuals, so 
drop them. 

Mary Taylor is going to leave our hemisphere. To me it 
is something as if a great planet fell out of the sky. Yet, 
unless she marries in New Zealand, she will not stay there 
long. 

Write to me again soon and I promise to write you a 
regular long letter next time. C. Bronte. 

The Mr. Grant here described had come to Haworth 
as master of the small grammar school in which Branwell 
had received some portion of his education. He is the 
Mr. Donne, curate of Whinbury, in Shirley, Whinbury 
is Oxenhope, of which village and district Mr. Grant 
after a time became incumbent. The district was taken 
out of Haworth Chapelry, and Mr. Grant collected the 
funds to build a church, schoolhouse, and parsonage. 
He died at Oxenhope, many years ago, greatly respected 
by his parishioners. He seems to have endured good- 
naturedly much chaff from Mr. Bronte and others, who 
always called him Mr. Donne. It was the opinion of 
many of liis acquaintances that the satire of Shirley had 
improved his disposition. 

Mr. Smith left Haworth in 1844, to become curate 
of the parish church of Keighley. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

August 15th J 1844. 

Dear Nell, — I send you two additional circulars, and 
will send you two more, if you desire it, when I write 
again. I have no news to give you. Mr. Smith leaves in 
the course of a fortnight. He will spend a few weeks in 
Ireland previously to settling at Keighley. He continues 
just the same: often anxious and bad-tempered, some- 
times rather tolerable — just supportable. How did your 
party go off .^ How are you.^ Write soon, and at length, 
for your letters are a great comfort to me. We are all 
pretty well. Remember me kindly to each member of 
the household at Brookroyd. — Yours, C. B. 

269 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

The third curate of Shirley, Mr. Sweeting of Nunnely, 
was Mr. James Chesterton Bradley, curate of Oakworth, 
an outlying district of Keighley parish. He was after- 
wards vicar of Haxby, Yorkshire, later of Sutton-under- 
Brailes, of which he was forty-one years rector. He died 
at Richmond, Surrey, in 191 3, aged ninety-five. 

Mr. Bronte's one other curate was Mr. de Renzi, who 
occupied the position for a little more than a year, — 
during the period, in fact, of Mr. Bronte's quarrel with 
Mr. NichoUs for aspiring to become his son-in-law. After 
he left Haworth, Mr. de Renzi became a curate at Brad- 
ford. He has been dead for some years. The story of 
Mr. NichoUs's curacy belongs to another chapter. It is 
suf&cient testimony to his worth, however, that he was 
aLle to win Charlotte Bronte in spite of the fact that his 
predecessors had inspired in her such hearty contempt. 
*' I think he must be like all the curates I have seen," 
she writes of one; '' they seem to me a self-seeking, 
vain, empty race." 



270 



CHAPTER XII 

CHARLOTTE BRONTE's LOVERS 

Charlotte Bronte was not beautiful, but she must have 
been singularly fascinating. That she was not beautiful 
there is abundant evidence. WTien, as girl of fifteen, she 
became a pupil at Roe Head, Mary Taylor once told her 
to her face that she was ugly. Ugly she was not in later 
years. All her friends emphasise the soft silky hair, and 
the beautiful grey eyes which in moments of excitement 
seemed to glisten ^^'ith remarkable brilliancy. But she 
had a sallow complexion, and a large nose slightly on one 
side. She was small in stature, and, in fact, the casual 
observer would have thought her a quaint, unobtrusive 
little body. ^Ir. Grund^^'s memory v\'as very defective 
when he ^^Tote about the Brontes; but, with the excep- 
tion of the reference to red hair — and aU the girls had 
brown hair — it would seem that he was not very wide 
of the mark when he \\T:ote of '' the daughters — distant 
and distrait, large of nose, smaU of figure, red of hair, 
prominent of spectacles, sho^\'ing great intellectual 
development, but ^^ith eyes constantly cast dowm, very 
silent, painfully retuing." 

Charlotte was indeed painfully shy. Miss Wheel- 
wright, who saw much of her during her visits to London 
in the years of her literary success, says that she would 
never enter a room wdthout sheltering herself under the 
wing of some taller friend. A resident of Haworth, still 
alive, remembers the girls passing him frequently on 
the way down to the shops, and their hands would in- 
voluntarily be lifted to the face on the side nearest to 
him, with a view to avoid obser^^ation. This was not 
affectation ; it was absolute timidity. Miss Wheelwnright 
always thought George Richmond's portrait — for which 
Charlotte sat during a stay at Dr. Wheelwright's in 
Phillimore Place — entirely flattering. Alany of Char- 
lotte's friends were pleased that it should be so, but 
there can be no doubt that the magnificent expanse of 
forehead was an exaggeration. Charlotte's forehead 
was high, but very narrow. 

271 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

All this is comparatively unimportant. Charlotte 
certainly was under no illusion; and we who revere 
her to-day as one of the greatest of Englishwomen need 
have no illusions. It is sufficient that, if not beautiful, 
Charlotte possessed a singular charm of manner, and, 
when interested, an exhilarating flow of conversation 
which carried intelligent men oft their feet. She had at 
least four offers of marriage. The three lovers she 
refused have long since gone to their graves, and there 
can be no harm now in referring to the actual facts as 
they present themselves in Charlotte's letters. Two 
of these offers of marriage were made in one year, when 
she was twenty-three years of age. Her first proposal 
came from the brother of her friend Ellen Nussey. 
Henry Nussey was a curate at Donnington when he 
asked Charlotte Bronte to be his wife. Two letters on 
the subject, one of which is partly printed in a mangled 
form in Mrs. Gaskell's Memoir, speak for themselves. 



TO REV. HENRY NUSSEY 

HawortH; March ^th, 1839. 

My dear Sir^. — Before answering your letter I might 
have spent a long time in consideration of its subject; but 
as from the first moment of its reception and perusal I 
determined on what course to pursue^ it seemed to me 
that delay was wholly unnecessary. You are aware that 
I have many reasons to feel grateful to your family, that 
I have peculiar reasons for affection towards one at least 
of your sisters, and also that I highly esteem yourself — 
do not therefore accuse me of wrong motives when I say 
that my answer to your proposal must be a decided 
negative. In forming this decision, I trust I have listened 
to the dictates of conscience more than to those of inclina- 
tion. I have no personal repugnance to the idea of a 
union with you, but I feel convinced that mine is not the 
sort of disposition calculated to form the happiness of a 
man like you. It has always been my habit to study the 
characters of those amongst whom I chance to be thrown, 
and I think I know yours and can imagine what description 
of woman would suit you for a wife. The character 

272 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

should not be too marked, ardent, and original, her temper 
should be mild, her piety undoubted, her spirits even and 
cheerful, and her personal attractions sufficient to please 
your eyes and gratify your just pride. As for me, you 
do not know me; I am not the serious, grave, cool-headed 
individual you suppose ; you would think me romantic and 
eccentric; you would say I was satirical and severe. 
However, I scorn deceit, and I will never, for the sake of 
attaining the distinction of matrimony and escaping the 
stigma of an old maid, take a worthy man whom I am 
conscious I cannot render happy. Before I conclude, let 
me thank you warmly for your other proposal regarding 
the school near Donnington. It is kind in you to take 
so much interest about me; but the fact is, I could not 
at present enter upon such a project because I have not 
the capital necessary to insure success. It is a pleasure 
to me to hear that you are so comfortably settled and that 
your health is so much improved. I trust God will con- 
tinue His kindness towards you. Let me say also that I 
admire the good-sense and absence of flattery and cant 
which your letter displayed. Farewell. I shall always 
be glad to hear from you as 2i friend, — Believe me, yours 
truly, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, March i2thj 1839. 

My dearest Ellen, — When your letter was put into 
my hands, I said, " She is coming at last, I hope,'' but 
when I opened it and found what the contents were, I 
was vexed to the heart. You need not ask me to go to 
Brookroyd any more. Once for all, and at the hazard of 
being called the most stupid little wretch that ever existed, 
I won't go till you have been to Haworth. I don't blame 
you, 1 believe you would come if you might; perhaps I 
ought to blame others, but I am grieved. 

Anne goes to Blake Hall on the 8th of April, unless some 
further unseen cause of delay should occur. I've heard 
nothing more from Mrs. Thos. Brook as yet. Papa wishes 

273 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

me to remain at home a little longer^ but I begin to be 
anxious to set to work again ; and yet it will be hard work 
after the indulgence of so many weeks^ to return to that 
dreary " gin-horse " round. 

You ask me, my dear Ellen, whether I have received 
a letter from Henry. I have, about a week since. The 
contents, I confess, did a little surprise me, but I kept 
them to myself, and unless you had questioned me on the 
subject, I would never have adverted to it. Henry says 
he is comfortably settled at Donnington, that his health 
is much improved, and that it is his intention to take 
pupils after Easter. He then intimates that in due time 
he should want a wife to take care of his pupils, and 
frankly asks me to be that wife. Altogether the letter 
is written without cant or flattery, and in a common-sense 
style, which does credit to his judgment. 

Now, my dear Ellen, there were in this proposal some 
things which might have proved a strong temptation. I 
thought if I were to marry Henry Nussey, his sister could 
live with me, and how happy I should be. But again I 
asked myself two questions : Do I love him as much as a 
woman ought to love the man she marries.^ Am I the 
person best qualified to make him happy .^ Alas! Ellen, 
my conscience answered no to both these questions. I 
felt that though I esteemed, though I had a kindly leaning 
towards him, because he is an amiable and well-disposed 
man, yet I had not, and could not have, that intense 
attachment which would make me willing to die for him; 
and, if ever I marry, it must be in that light of adoration 
that I will regard my husband. Ten to one I shall never 
have the chance again; but n'importe. Moreover, I was 
aware that Henry knew so little of me he could hardly 
be conscious to whom he was writing. Why, it would 
startle him to see me in my natural home character; he 
would think I was a wild, romantic enthusiast indeed. I 
could not sit all day long making a grave face before my 
husband. I would laugh, and satirise, and say whatever 
came into my head first. And if he were a clever man, 
and loved me, the whole world weighed in the balance 

274 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

against his smallest wish should be light as air. Could I^ 
knowing my mind to be such as that, conscientiously 
say that I would take a grave, quiet, young man like 
Henry? No, it would have been deceiving him, and 
deception of that sort is beneath me. So I wrote a long 
letter back, in which I expressed my refusal as gently as I 
could, and also candidly avowed my reasons for that 
refusal. I described to him, too, the sort of character 
that would suit him for a wife. — Good-bye, my dear Ellen. 

C. Bronte. 

Mr. Nussey was a very good man, with a capacity for 
making himself generally esteemed, becoming in turn 
vicar of Earnley, near Chichester, and afterwards of 
Hathersage, in Derbyshire. It was honourable to his 
judgment that he had aspired to marry Charlotte Bronte, 
who, as we know, had neither money nor much personal 
attraction, and at the time no possible prospect of 
literary fame. Her common-sense letter in reply to his 
proposal had the desired effect. He speedily took the 
proffered advice, and six months later we find her send- 
ing him a letter of congratulation upon his engagement 
to be married. 



TO REV. HENRY NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, October 2Sthj 1839. 

Dear Sir, — I have delayed answering your last com- 
munication in the hopes of receiving a letter from Ellen, 
that I might be able to transmit to you the latest news 
from Brookroyd ; however, as she does not write, I think 
I ought to put off my reply no longer lest you should 
begin to think me negligent. As you rightly conjecture, 
I had heard a little hint of what you allude to before, and 
the account gave me pleasure, coupled as it was with the 
assurance that the object of your regard is a worthy and 
estimable woman. The step no doubt will by many of 
your friends be considered scarcely as a prudent one, 
since fortune is not amongst the number of the young 
lady's advantages. For my own part, I must confess 
that I esteem you the more for not hunting after wealth 

275 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

if there be strength of mind, firmness of principle, and 
sweetness of temper to compensate for the absence of that 
usually all-powerful attraction. The wife who brings 
riches to her husband sometimes also brings an idea of 
her own importance and a tenacity about what she con- 
ceives to be her rights, little calculated to produce happi- 
ness in the married state. Most probably she will wish 
to control when nature and affection bind her to submit — 
in this case there cannot, I should think, be much comfort. 

On the other hand, it must be considered that when two 
persons marry without money, there ought to be moral 
courage and physical exertion to atone for the deficiency — 
there should be spirit to scorn dependence, patience to 
endure privation, and energy to labour for a livelihood. If 
there be these qualities, I think, with the blessing of God, 
those who join heart and hand have a right to expect 
success and a moderate share of happiness, even though 
they may have departed a step or two from the stern 
maxims of worldly prudence. The bread earned by 
honourable toil is sweeter than the bread of idleness ; and 
mutual love and domestic calm are treasures far preferable 
to the possessions rust can corrupt and moths consume 
away. 

I enjoyed my late excursion with Ellen with the greater 
zest because such pleasures have not often chanced to fall 
in my way. I will not tell you what I thought of the sea, 
because I should fall into my besetting sin of enthusiasm. 
I may, however, say that its glories, changes, its ebbs and 
flow, the sound of its restless waves, formed a subject for 
contemplation that never wearied either the eye, the ear, 
or the mind. Our visit at Easton was extremely pleasant; 
I shall always feel grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Hudson for 
their kindness. We saw Agnes Burton, during our stay, 
and called on two of your former parishioners — Mrs. 
Brown and Mrs. Dalton. I was pleased to hear your name 
mentioned by them in terms of encomium and sincere 
regard. Ellen will have detailed to you all the minutia of 
our excursion; a recapitulation from me would therefore 
be tedious. I am happy to say that her health appeared 

276 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

to be greatly improved by the change of air and regular 
exercise. I am still at home^ as I have not yet heard of 
any situation which meets with the approbation of my 
friends. I begin, however, to grow exceedingly impatient 
of a prolonged period of inaction. I feel I ought to be 
doing something for myself, for my health is now so 
perfectly re-established by this long rest that it affords 
me no further pretext for indolence. With every wish for 
your future welfare, and with the hope that whenever 
your proposed union takes place it may contribute in the 
highest sense to your good and happiness, — BeUeve me, 
your sincere friend, C. Bronte. 

P.S, — Remember me to your sister Mercy, who, I 
understand, is for the present your companion and 
housekeeper. 

The correspondence did not end here. Indeed, 
Charlotte was so excellent a letter-wTiter, that it must 
have been hard indeed for any one who had had any 
experience of her in that capacity to readily forgo its 
continuance. 

TO REV. HENRY NUSSEY 

Haworth, May 26tk, 1840. 

Dear Sir, — In looking over my papers this morning I 
found a letter from vou of the date of last Februarv with 
the mark upon it unanswered. Your sister Ellen often 
accuses me of want of punctuality in answering letters, 
and I think her accusation is here justified. However, I 
give you credit for as much considerateness as will induce 
you to excuse a greater fault than this, especially as I 
shall hasten directly to repair it. 

The fact is, when the letter came Ellen was staying with 
me, and I was so fully occupied in talking to her that I had 
no time to think of WTiting to others. This is no great 
compliment, but it is no insult either. You know Ellen's 
worth, you know how seldom I see her, you partly know 
my regard for her; and from these premises you may 
easily draw the inference that her company, when once 

277 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

obtained, is too valuable to be wasted for a moment. One 
woman can appreciate the value of another better than 
a man can do. Men very often only see the outside 
gloss which dazzles in prosperity, women have oppor- 
tunities for closer observation, and they learn to value 
those qualities which are useful in adversity. 

There is much^ too, in that mild even temper and that 
placid equanimity which keep the domestic hearth always 
bright and peaceful — this is better than the ardent nature 
that changes twenty times in a day. I have studied Ellen 
and I think she would make a good wife — that is, if she 
had a good husband. If she married a fool or a tyrant 
there is spirit enough in her composition to withstand the 
dictates of either insolence or weakness, though even then 
I doubt not her sense would teach her to make the best of 
a bad bargain. 

You will see my letters are all didactic. They contain 
no news, because I know of none which I think it w^ould 
interest you to hear repeated. I am still at home, in very 
good health and spirits, and uneasy only because I cannot 
yet hear of a situation. 

I shall always be glad to have a letter from you, and I 
promise when you write again to be less dilatory in answer- 
ing. I trust your prospects of happiness still continue 
fair; and from what you say of your future partner I 
doubt not she will be one who will help you to get cheer- 
fully through the difficulties of this world and to obtain a 
permanent rest in the next; at least I hope such may be 
the case. You do right to conduct the matter with due 
dehberation, for on the step you are about to take depends 
the happiness of your whole lifetime. 

You must not again ask me to write in a regular literary 
way to you on some particular topic. I cannot do it at all. 
Do you think I am a blue-stocking? I feel half inclined 
to laugh at you for the idea, but perhaps you would be 
angry. What was the topic to be? Chemistry? or 
astronomy? or mechanics? or conchology? or ento- 
mology ? or what other ology ? I know nothing at all about 
any of these. I am not scientific; I am not a Hnguist. 

278 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

You think me far more learned than I am. If I told you 
all my ignorance^ I am afraid you would be shocked; 
however, as I wish still to retain a little corner in your 
good opinion, I will hold my tongue. — BeHeve me, yours 
respectfully, C. Bronte. 

TO REV. HENRY NUSSEY 

January iith^ 1841. 

Dear Sir, — It is time I should reply to your last, as I 
shall fail in fulfilling my promise of not being so dilatory 
as on a former occasion. 

I shall be glad to receive the poetry which you offer to 
send me. You ask me to return the gift in kind. How 
do you know that I have it in my power to comply with 
that request? Once indeed I was very poetical, when I 
was sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen years old, 
but I am now twenty-four, approaching twenty-five, and 
the intermediate years are those which begin to rob life 
of some of its superfluous colouring. At this age it is time 
that the imagination should be pruned and trimmed, that 
the judgment should be cultivated, and a few, at least, of 
the countless illusions of early youth should be cleared 
away. I have not written poetry for a long while. 

You will excuse the dulness, morality, and monotony of 
this epistle, and — Believe me, with all good wishes for your 
welfare here and hereafter, your sincere friend, 

C. Bronte. 

This letter closes the correspondence ; but, as we have 
seen, Charlotte spent three pleasant weeks in Mr. Nussey's 
home with his sister Ellen when that gentleman became 
vicar of Hathersage, in Derbyshire. She thus congratu- 
lates her friend when Mr. Nussey is appointed to the 
latter living. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

July 2gthj 1844. 

Dear Nell, — I am very glad to hear of Henry's good 
iortune. It proves to me what an excellent thing 

279 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

perseverance is for getting on in the world. Calm 
self-confidence (not impudence, for that is vulgar and 
repulsive) is an admirable quahty; but how are those not 
naturally gifted with it to attain it? We all here get on 
much as usual. Papa wishes he could hear of a curate, 
that Mr. Smith may be at liberty to go. Good-bye, dear 
Ellen. I wish to you and yours happiness, health, and 
prosperity. 

Write again before you go to Burlington. My best love 
to Mary. C. Bronte. 

Meanwhile, as I have said, a second lover appeared 
on the field in this same year, 1839, and the quickness 
of his wooing is a remarkable testimony to the peculiar 
fascination which Miss Bronte must have exercised. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

August 4th J 1839. 

My dearest Ellen, — I have an odd circumstance to 
relate to you — prepare for a hearty laugh ! The other day 
Mr. Hodgson, papa's former curate, now a vicar, came 
over to spend the day with us, bringing with him his own 
curate. The latter gentleman, by name Mr. Bryce, is a 
young Irish clergyman, fresh from Dublin University. It 
was the first time we had any of us seen him, but, however, 
after the manner of his countrymen, he soon made himself 
at home. His character quickly appeared in his con- 
versation: witty, lively, ardent, clever too, but deficient 
in the dignity and discretion of an Englishman. At home, 
you know, Ellen, I talk with ease, and am never shy, never 
weighed down and oppressed by that miserable mauvaise 
honte which torments and constrains me elsewhere. So I 
conversed with this Irishman and laughed at his jests, and 
though I saw faults in his character, excused them because 
of the amusement his originality afforded. I cooled a 
little, indeed, and drew in towards the latter part of the 
evening, because he began to season his conversation with 
something of Hibernian flattery, which I did not quite 
relish. However, they went away, and no more was 

280 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

thought about them. A few days after I got a letter^ the 
direction of which puzzled me^ it being in a hand I was 
not accustomed to see. Evidently^ it was neither from 
you nor Mary Taylor^ my only correspondents. Having 
opened and read it, it proved to be a declaration of attach- 
ment and proposal of matrimony, expressed in the ardent 
language of the sapient young Irishman ! Well ! thought 
I, I have heard of love at first sight, but this beats all. I 
leave you to guess what my answer would be, convinced 
that you will not do m.e the injustice of guessing wTong. 
When we meet I'll show you the letter. I hope you are 
laughing heartily. This is not like one of my adventures, 
is it? It more nearly resembles Martha Taylor's. I am 
certainly doomed to be an old maid. Never mind, I made 
up my mind to that fate ever since I was twelve years old. 
Write soon. C. Bronte. 

It was not many months after this that we hear the 
last of poor Mr. Bryce. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

January 2^th, 1840. 
My dear Ellen, — Mr. Bryce is dead. He had fallen 
into a state of dehcate health for some time, and the rupture 
of a blood-vessel carried him off. He was a strong, 
athletic-looking man when I saw him, and that is scarcely 
six months ago. Though I knew so Httle of him, and of 
course could not be deeply or permanently interested in 
what concerned him, I confess, when I suddenly heard he 
was dead, I felt both shocked and saddened: it was no 
shame to feel so, was it? I scold you, Ellen, for writing 
illegibly and badly, but I think you may repay the com- 
pliment with cent per cent interest. I am not in the 
humour for ^vTiting a long letter, so good-bye. God bless 
you. C. B. 

There are many thoughts on marriage scattered 
through Charlotte's correspondence. It was a subject 
upon which she never wearied of asking questions, and 
of finding her own answers. " I believe it is better to 

281 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

marry to love than to marry /or love," she says on one 
occasion. And in reference to the somewhat uncertain 
attitude of the admirer of one of her friends, she thus 
expresses herself to Miss Nussey: 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

November 20th, 1840. 

My dearest Nell^ — That last letter of thine treated of 
matters so high and important I cannot delay answering 
it for a day. Now I am about to write thee a discourse^ 
and a piece of advice which thou must take as if it came 
from thy grandmother. But in the first place^ before I 
begin with thee, I have a word to whisper in the ear of 
Mr. Vincent, and I wish it could reach him. In the name 
of St. Chrysostom, St. Simon, and St. Jude, why does not 
that amiable young gentleman come forw^ard like a man 
and say all that he has to say personally, intead of trifling 
with kinsmen and kinswomen. " Mr. Vincent," I say, 

*' go personally, and say: ' Miss , I want to speak to 

you.' Miss will of course civilly answer: ' I am at 

your service, Mr. Vincent.' And then, when the room is 
cleared of all but yourself and herself, just take a chair 
nearer. Insist upon her laying down that silly . . . work, 
and listening to you. Then begin, in a clear, distinct, 

deferential, but determined voice : ' Miss , I have a 

question to put to you — a very important question : 
"Will you take me as your husband, for better, for worse ? " 
I am not a rich man, but I have suflficient to support us. I 
am not a great man, but I love you honestly and truly. 

Miss , if you knew the world better you would see 

that this is an offer not to be despised — a kind attached 
heart and a moderate competency.' Do this, Mr. Vincent, 
and you may succeed. Go on writing sentimental and 

love-sick letters to , and I would not give sixpence 

for your suit." So much for Mr. Vincent. Now Miss 

's turn comes to swallow the black bolus, called a 

friend's advice. Say to her: " Is the man a fool ? is he a 
knave.? a humbug, a hypocrite, a ninny, a noodle.? If 
he is any or all of these, of course there is no sense in 

2S2 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

trifling with him. Cut him short at once — blast his hopes 
with lightning rapidity and keenness. Is he something 
better than this? has he at least common sense, a good 
disposition, a manageable temper? Then consider the 
matter." Say further: " You feel a disgust towards him 
now — an utter repugnance. Very likely, but be so good 
as to remember you don't know him; you have only had 
three or four days' acquaintance with him. Longer and 
closer intimacy might reconcile you to a wonderful extent. 
And now I'll tell you a word of truth, at which you may 
be oflended or not as you like." Say to her: " From 
what I know of your character, and I think I know it 
pretty well, I should say you will never love before 
marriage. After that ceremony is o\'er, and after you 
have had some months to settle do\ATi, and to get accus- 
tomed to the creature you have taken for your worse half, 
you will probably make a most affectionate and happy 
^\*ife : even if the individual should not prove all you could 
wish, you will be indulgent towards his little follies and 
foibles, and will not feel much annoyance at them. This 
wiU especially be the case if he should have sense sufficient 
to allow you to guide him in important matters." Say 
also : '' I hope you will not have the romantic folly to wait 
for what the French call ' une grande passion.' My good 
girl, ' une grande passion ' is ' une grande fohe.' Mediocrity 
in all things is wisdom; mediocrity in the sensations is 
superlative wisdom." Say to her: " WTien you are as 
old as I am (I am sixty at least, being your grandmother), 
you will find that the majority of those worldly precepts, 
whose seeming coldness shocks and repels us in youth, are 
founded in wisdom." 

No girl should fall in love till the offer is actually made. 
This maxim is just. I wiU even extend and confirm it: 
No young lady should fall in love till the offer has been 
made, accepted, the marriage ceremony performed, and 
the first half-year of wedded life has passed away. A 
woman may then begin to love, but with great precaution, 
very coolly, very moderately, very rationally. If she 
ever loves so much that a harsh word or a cold look cuts 

283 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

her to the heart she is a fool. If she ever loves so much 
that her husband's will is her law^ and that she has got 
into a habit of watching his looks in order that she may 
anticipate his wishes^ she will soon be a neglected fool. 

I have two studies: you are my study for the success, 
the credit, and the respectability of a quiet, tranquil 
character; Mary is my study for the contempt, the 
remorse, the misconstruction which follow the develop- 
ment of feelings in themselves noble, warm, generous, 
devoted, and profound, but which, being too freely re- 
vealed, too frankly bestowed, are not estimated at their 
real value. I never hope to see in this world a character 
more truly noble. She would die willingly for one she 
loved. Her intellect and her attainments are of the very 
highest standard. Yet I doubt whether Mary will ever 
marry. Mr. Weightman expresses himself very strongly 
,on young ladies saying " No," when they mean *' Yes." 
He assures me he means nothing personal. I hope not. 
Assuredly I quite agree with him in his disapprobation of 
such a senseless course. It is folly indeed for the tongue 
to stammer a negative when the heart is proclaiming an 
affirmative. Or rather, it is an act of heroic self-denial, 
of which I for one confess myself wholly incapable. / 
would not tell such a lie to gain a thousand pounds. Write 
to me again soon. What made you say I admired 
Hippocrates.^ It is a confounded " fib." I tried to find 
something admirable in him, and failed. 

He is perhaps only like the majority of men (she says 
of an acquaintance). Certainly those men who lead a 
gay Hfe in their youth, and arrive at middle-age with 
feelings blunted and passions exhausted, can have but one 
aim in marriage — the selfish advancement of their interest. 
Hard to think that such men take as wives — as second- 
selves — women young, modest, sincere, pure in heart and 
life, with feelings all fresh and emotions all unworn, and 
bind such virtue and vitality to their own withered 
existence, such sincerity to their own hollowness, such 
disinterestedness to their own haggard avarice — to think 

284 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

this, troubles the soul to its inmost depths. Nature and 
justice forbid the banns of such wedlock. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

August gth, 1846. 

Dear Nell, — Anne and I both thank you for your kind 
invitation. And our thanks are not mere words of course 
— they are very sincere, both as addressed to yourself and 
your mother and sisters. But we cannot accept it: and 
I think even you will consider our motives for declining 
valid this time. 

In a fortnight I hope to go with papa to Manchester to 
have his eyes couched. Emily and I made a pilgrimage 
there a week ago to search out an operator, and we found 
one in the person of Mr. Wilson. He could not tell from 
the description whether the eyes were ready for an opera- 
tion. Papa must therefore necessarily take a journey to 
Manchester to consult him. If he judges the cataract ripe, 
we shall remain; if, on the contrary, he thinks it not yet 
sufficiently hardened, we shall have to return — and Papa 
must remain in darkness a while longer. 

There is a defect in your reasoning about the feelings a 
wife ought to experience. Who holds the purse will wish 
to be master, Ellen, depend on it, whether man or woman. 
Who provided the cash will now and then value himself^ 
or herself, upon it, and, even in the case of ordinary minds, 
reproach the less wealthy partner. Besides, no husband 
ought to be an object of charity to his wife, as no wife 
to her husband. No, dear Ellen; it is doubtless pleasant 
to marry well, as they say, but with all pleasures are mixed 
bitters. I do not wish for my friend a very rich husband. 
I should not like her to be regarded by any man ever as 
*' a sweet object of charity." Give my sincere love to all. 
— Yours, C. Bronte. 

Many years were to elapse before Charlotte Bronte 
received her third offer of marriage. Thes3 were the 
years of Brussels life, and the year during which she lost 
her sisters. It came in the period of her early literary 

285 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

fame, and indeed was the outcome of it. Mr. James 
Taylor was in the employment of Smith & Elder. He 
was associated with the literary department, and next 
in command to Mr. W. S. Williams as adviser to the firm. 
M. Williams appears to have written to Miss Bronte 
suggesting that Mr. Taylor should come to Haworth in 
person for the manuscript of her new novel, Shirley, and 
here is Charlotte's reply. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

August 24th, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I think the best title for the book would 
be Shirley, without any explanation or addition — the 
simpler and briefer^ the better. 

If Mr. Taylor calls here on his return to town he might 
take charge of the MS.; I would rather intrust it to him 
than send it by the ordinary conveyance. Did I see Mr. 
Taylor when I was in London? I cannot remember him. 

I would with pleasure offer him the homely hospitalities 
of the Parsonage for a few days^ if I could at the same time 
offer him the company of a brother, or if my father were 
young enough and strong enough to walk with him on the 
moors and show him the neighbourhood, or if the pecuhar 
retirement of papa's habits were not such as to render it 
irksome to him to give much of his society to a stranger, 
even in the house. Without being in the least mis- 
anthropical or sour-natured, papa habitually prefers 
solitude to society, and custom is a tyrant whose fetters 
it would now be impossible for him to break. Were it not 
for difficulties of this sort, I believe I should ere this have 
asked you to come down to Yorkshire. Papa, I know, 
would receive any friend of Mr. Smith's with perfect 
kindness and goodwill, but I likewise know that, unless 
greatly put out of his way, he could not give a guest much 
of his company, and that, consequently, his entertainment 
would be but dull. 

You will see the force of these considerations, and 
understand why I only ask Mr. Taylor to come for a day 
instead of requesting the pleasure of his company for a 

2S6 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

longer period; you will believe me also, and so will he^ 
when I say I shall be most happy to see him. He will 
find Haworth a strange uncivilised little place, such as, 
I daresay, he never saw before. It is twenty miles distant 
from Leeds; he will have to come by rail to Keighley 
(there are trains every^ two hours I believe). He must 
remember that at a station called Shipley the carriages 
are changed, otherwise they wull take him on to Skipton 
or Colne, or I know nor where. When he reaches Keigh- 
ley, he will yet have four miles to travel; a conveyance 
may be hired at the Devonshire Arms — there is no coach 
or other regular communication. 

I should like to hear from him before he comes, and to 
know on what day to expect him, that I may have the 
MS. ready; if it is not quite finished I might send the 
concluding chapter or two by post. 

I advise you to send this letter to Mr. Taylor — it will 
save you the trouble of much explanation, and will serve 
to apprise him of what lies before him; he can then weigh 
well with himself whether it would suit him to take so 
much trouble for so slight an end. — BeUeve me, my dear 
sir, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO JAMES TAYLOR, Cornhill 

September yd, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — It will be quite convenient to my 
father and myself to secure your visit on Saturday the 
8th inst. 

The MS. is now complete, and ready for you. 

Trusting that you have enjoyed your hohday and 
derived from your excursion both pleasure and profit, — 
I am, dear sir, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

^Ir. Taylor was small and red-haired. There are two 
portraits of him before me. They indicate a determined, 
capable man, thick-set, well bearded: on the whole a 
vigorous and interesting personahty. In any case, ]\Ir. 
Taylor lost his heart to Charlotte, and was much more 
persistent than earlier lovers. He had also the advan- 
tage of ]Mr. Bronte's goodwill. This is all there is to add 
to the letters themselves. 

287 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

September i^ih, 1850. 

Dear Ellen^ — I found after sealing my last note to 
you that I had forgotten after all to inclose Amelia's 
letter; however, it appears it does not signify. While 
I think of it I must refer to an act of petty larceny com- 
mitted by me when I was last at Brookroyd. Do you 
remember lending me a parasol, which I should have left 
with you when we parted at Leeds? I unconsciously 
carried it away in my hand. You shall have it when 
you next come to Ha worth. 

I wish, dear Ellen, you would tell me what is the 
*' twaddle about my marrying, etc.," which you hear. 
If I knew the details I should have a better chance of 
guessing the quarter from which such gossip comes. — as 
it is, I am quite at a loss. Whom am I to marry .^ I 
think I have scarcely seen a single man with whom such 
a union would be possible since I left London. Doubt- 
less there are men whom, if I chose to encourage, I might 
marry; but no matrimonial lot is even remotely offered 
me which seems to me truly desirable. And even if that 
were the case, there would be many obstacles. The least 
allusion to such a thing is most offensive to papa. 

An article entitled Currer Bell has lately appeared in 
the Palladhim, a new periodical published in Edinburgh. 
It is an eloquent production, and one of such warm sym- 
pathy and high appreciation as I had never expected to 
see. It makes mistakes about authorships, etc., but 
these I hope one day to set right. Mr. Taylor (the little 
man) first informed me of this article. I was somewhat 
surprised to receive his letter, having concluded nine 
months ago that there would be no more correspondence 
from that quarter. I inclose you a note from him re- 
ceived subsequently, in answer to my acknowledgment. 
Read it and tell me exactly how it impresses you regard- 
ing the writer's character, etc. His little newspaper 
disappeared for some weeks, and I thought it was gone 
to the tomb of the Capulets; however, it has reappeared, 

288 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

with an explanation that he had feared its regular trans- 
mission might rather annoy than gratify. I told him 
this was a mistake — that I was well enough pleased to 
receive it^ but hoped he would not make a task of sending 
it. For the rest^ I cannot consider myself placed under 
any personal obligation by accepting this newspaper^ for 
it belongs to the establishment of Smith & Elder. This 
little Taylor is deficient neither in spirit nor sense. 

The report about my having published again is^ of 
course^ an arrant lie. 

Give my kind regards to all^ and — Believe me, yours 
faithfully, C. B. 

Her friend's reference to Jupiter is to another sug- 
gested lover, and the kindly allusion to the '' little man '' 
may be taken to imply that had he persevered, or not 
gone off to India, whither he was sent to open a branch 
establishment in Bombay for Smith & Elder, Mr. Taylor 
might possibly have been successful in the long run. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

January ^oth^ 1851. 

Dear Nell. — I am very sorry to hear that Amelia is 
again far from w^ell; but I think both she and I should try 
and not be too anxious. Even if mxatters do not prosper 
this time, all may go as well some future day. I think it 
is not these early mishaps that break the constitution, but 
those which occur in a much later stage. She must take 
heart — there may yet be a round dozen of little Joe 
Taylors to look after — run after — to sort and switch 
and train up in the way they should go — that is, with a 
generous use of pickled birch. From whom do you think 
I have received a couple of notes lately? From Alice. 
They are returned from the Continent, it seems, and are 
now at Torquay. The first note touched me a little by 
what I thought its subdued tone; I trusted her character 
might be greatly improved. There were, indeed, traces 
of the '^ old Adam,'' but such as I was willing to overlook. 
I answered her soon and kindly. In reply I received 

289 K 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

to-day a longish letter, full of claptrap sentiment and 
humbugging attempts at fine writing. In each produc- 
tion the old trading spirit peeps out; she asks for auto- 
graphs. It seems she had read in some paper that I was 
staying with Miss Martineau; thereupon she appHes for 
specimens of her handwriting, and Wordsworth's, and 
Southey's, and my own. The account of her health, if 
given by any one else, w^ould grieve and alarm me. She 
talks of fearing that her constitution is almost broken 
by repeated trials, and intimates a doubt as to whether 
she shall live long: but, remembering her of old, I have 
good hopes that this may be a mistake. Her '' beloved 
papa and mama " and her '' precious sister,'' she says, 
are living, and '' gradely." (This last is my word. I 
don't know whether they use it in Birstall as they do here 
— it means in a middling way.) 

You are to say no more about " Jupiter " ^ and " Venus " 
— what do you mean by such heathen trash? The fact 
is, no fallacy can be wilder, and I won't have it hinted at 
even in jest, because my common sense laughs it to scorn. 
The idea of the '' little man " shocks me less — it would 
be a more likely match if '^ matches " were at all in ques- 
tion, which they are not. He still sends his little news- 
paper; and the other day there came a letter of a bulk, 
volume, pith, judgment, and knowledge, worthy to have 
been the product of a giant. You may laugh as much 
and as wickedly as you please; but the fact is, there is a 
quiet constancy about this, my diminutive and red-haired 
friend, which adds a foot to his stature, turns his sandy 
locks dark, and altogether dignifies him a good deal in 
my estimation. However, I am not bothered by much 
vehement ardour — there is the nicest distance and respect 
preserved now, which makes matters very comfortable. 

This is all nonsense, Nell, and so you will understand 
it. — Yours very faithfully, C. B. 

The name of Miss Martineau's coadjutor is Atkinson. 
She often writes to me with exceeding cordiality. 
^ " Jupiter " was Mr. George Smith, her publisher. 



290 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 



TO JAMES TAYLOR, Cornhill 

March 22nd , 1851. 

My dear Sir, — ^Yesterday I despatched a box of 
books to Cornhill, including the number of the North 
British Review which you kindly lent me. The article 
to which you particularly directed my attention was read 
with pleasure and interest, and if I do not now discuss 
it more at length, it is because I am well aware how com- 
pletely your attention must be at present engrossed, 
since, if I rightly understood a brief paragraph in Mr. 
Smith's last note, you are now on the eve of quitting 
England for India. 

I will limit myself, then, to the expression of a sincere 
wish for your welfare and prosperity in this undertaking, 
and to the hope that the great change of climate will bring 
with it no corresponding risk to health. I should think 
you will be missed in Cornhill, but doubtless " business " 
is a Moloch which demands such sacrifices. 

I do not know when you go, nor whether your absence 
is likely to be permanent or only for a time; whichever 
it be, accept my best wishes for your happiness, and my 
farewell, if I should not again have the opportunity of 
addressing you. — Believe me, sincerely yours, 

C. Bronte. 

TO JAMES TAYLOR, Cornhill 

March 24//^, 1851. 

My dear SiR;, — I had written briefly to you before I 
received yours, but I fear the note would not reach you 
in time. I will now only say that both my father and 
myself will have pleasure in seeing you on your return from 
Scotland — a pleasure tinged with sadness certainly, as all 
partings are, but still a pleasure. 

I do most entirely agree with you in what you say 
about Miss Martineau's and Mr. Atkinson's book. I 
deeply regret its publication for the lady's sake; it gives 

291 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

a death-blow to her future usefulness. Who can trust 
the word, or rely on the judgment, of an avowed atheist? 

May your decision in the crisis through which you have 
gone result in the best effect of your happiness and welfare ; 
and indeed, guided as you are by the wish to do right and 
a high sense of duty, I trust it cannot be otherwise. The 
change of climate is all I fear; but Providence will over- 
rule this too for the best — in Him you can believe and on 
Him rely. You will want, therefore, neither solace nor 
support, though your lot be cast as a stranger in a strange 
land. — I am, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

When you shall have definitely fixed the time of your 
return southward, write me a line to say on what day I 
may expect you at Haworth. C. B. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April ^th, 1851. 

Dear Ellen, — Mr. Taylor has been and is gone; things 
are just as they were. I only know in addition to the 
slight information I possessed before, that this Indian 
undertaking is necessary to the continued prosperity 
of the firm of Smith, Elder & Co., and that he, Taylor, 
alone was pronounced to possess the power and means to 
carry it out successfully — that mercantile honour, com- 
bined with his own sense of duty, obliged him to accept 
the post of honour and of danger to which he has been 
appointed, that he goes with great personal reluctance, 
and that he contemplates an absence of five years. 

He looked much thinner and older. I saw him very 
near, and once through my glass; the resemblance to 
Branwell struck me forcibly — it is marked. He is not 
ugly, but very peculiar; the lines in his face show an 
inflexibility, and, I must add, a hardness of character 
which do not attract. As he stood near me, as he looked 
at me in his keen way, it was all I could do to stand my 
ground tranquilly and steadily, and not to recoil as before. 
It is no use saying anything if I am not candid. I avow 
then, that on this occasion, predisposed as I was to re- 

292 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

gard him ver>^ favourably, his manners and his personal 
presence scarcely pleased me more than at the first inter- 
view. He gave me a book at parting, requesting in his 
brief way that I would keep it for his sake, and adding 
hastily, '^ I shall hope to hear from you in India — your 
letters have been and iviU be a greater refreshment than 
you can think or I can tell.'' 

And so he is gone ; and stem and abrupt little man as he 
is — too often jarring as are his manners — his absence and 
the exclusion of his idea from my mind leave me certainly 
with less support and in deeper solitude than before. 

You see, dear Nell, though we are still precisely on the 
same level — you are not isolated. I feel that there is a 
certain mystery about this transaction yet, and whether 
it will ever be cleared up to me I do not know; however, 
my plain duty is to wean my mind from the subject, and 
if possible to avoid pondering over it. In his conversation 
he seemed studiously to avoid reference to Mr. Smith 
individually, speaking always of the '^ house " — the 
" firm.'' He seemed throughout quite as excited and 
nervous as when I first saw him. I feel that in his way 
he has a regard for me — a regard which I cannot bring 
myself entirely to reciprocate in kind, and yet its with- 
drawal leaves a painful blank. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April gth, 1851. 

Dear Nell, — Thank you for your kind note; it was just 
like you to wTite it though it was your school-day. I never 
knew you to let a slight impediment stand in the way of a 
friendly action. 

Certainly I shall not soon forget last Friday, and never, 
I think, the evening and night succeeding that morning 
and afternoon. Evils seldom come singly. And soon 
after Mr. Taylor was gone, papa, who had been better, 
grew much worse. He went to bed early, and was very 
sick and ill for an hour; and when at last he began to 
doze, and I left him, I came down to the dining-room with 

293 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

a sense of weighty fear, and desolation hard to express and 
harder to endure. A wish that you were with me did 
cross my mind, but I repulsed it as a most selfish wish; 
indeed, it was only short-lived: my natural tendency in 
moments of this sort is to get through the struggle alone — 
to think that one is burdening and racking others makes 
all worse. 

You speak to me in soft consolating accents, but I hold 
far sterner language to myself, dear Nell. 

An absence of five years — a dividing expanse of three 
oceans — the wide difference between a man's active career 
and a woman's passive existence — these things are almost 
equivalent to an eternal separation. But there is another 
thing which forms a barrier more difficult to pass than any 
of these. Would Mr. Taylor and I ever suit? Could I 
ever feel for him enough love to accept him as a husband } 
Friendship — gratitude — esteem I have, but each moment 
he came near me, and that I could see his eyes fastened 
on me, my veins ran ice. Now that he is away I feel 
far more gently towards him; it is only close by that I 
grow rigid — stiffening with a strange mixture of apprehen- 
sion and anger, which nothing softens but his retreat and 
a perfect subduing of his manner. I did not want to be 
proud, nor intend to be proud, but I was forced to be so. 

Most true is it that we are over-ruled by one above us — 
that in his hands our very will is as clay in the hands of the 
potter. 

Papa continues very far from well, though yesterday, 
and I hope this morning, he is a httle better. How is your 
mother ? Give my love to her and your sister. How are 
you? Have you suffered from tic since you returned 
home ? Did they think you improved in looks ? 

Write again soon. — Yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April 2yd, 1851. 
My dear Ellen, — I have heard from Mr. Taylor to-day 
— a quiet little note. He returned to London a week 
since on Saturday; he has since kindly chosen and sent 

294 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

me a parcel of books. He leaves England May 20th. 
His note concludes with asking whether he has any chance 
of seeing me in London before that time. I mus: tell him 
that I have already rixed June for my visits and therefore, 
in all human probability _, we shall see each other no more. 

There is still a want of plain mutual understanding in 
this business^ and there is sadness and pain in more ways- 
than one. My conscience^ I can truly say, does not 7iow 
accuse me of having treated Mr. Taylor with injustice or 
unkindness. What I once did ^^Tong in this way, I have 
endeavoured to remedy both to himself and in speaking 
of him to others — Mr. Smith to wit, though I more than 
doubt whether that last opinion will ever reach him. I 
am sure he has estimable and sterling qualities ; but with 
every disposition and with every wish, with every intention 
even to look on him in the most favourable point of view 
at his last visit, it was impossible to me in my inward 
heart to think of him as one that might one day be accept- 
able as a husband. It would sound harsh were I to tell, 
even you of the estimate I felt compelled to form respect- 
ing him. Dear Nell, I looked for something of the gentle- 
man — something I mean of the natural gentlemS^n; you 
know I can dispense with acquired polish, and for looks, 
I know myself too well to think that I have any right to be 
exacting on that point. I could not find one gleam, I 
could not see one passing glimpse of true good-breeding. 
It is hard to say, but it is true. In mind too, though clever, 
he is second-rate — thoroughly second-rate. One does not 
like to say these things, but one had better be honest. 
Were I to marry him my heart would bleed in pain and 
humiliation; I could not, could not look up to him. No; 
if Mr. Taylor be the only husband fate offers to me, single 
I must always remain. But yet, at times I grieve for him, 
and perhaps it is superfluous, for I cannot think he will 
suffer much: a hard nature, occupation, and change of 
scene will befriend him. 

With kind regards to all, — I am, dear Nell, your middle- 
aged friend, C. Bronte. 

Write soon. 

295 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

. May sth, 1S51. 

My dear Ellen, — I have had a long kind letter from 
Miss Martineau lately. She says she is well and happy. 
Ako, I have had a very long letter from Mr. Williams. 
He speaks with much respect of Mr. Taylor. I discover 
with some surprise, papa has taken a decided liking to 
Mr. Taylor. The marked kindness of his manner when 
he bid him good-bye, exhorting him to be " true to him- 
self^ his countr}^, and his God/' and wishing him all good 
wishes, struck me with some astonishment. Whenever 
he has alluded to him since, it has been with significant 
eulogy. When I alluded that he was no gentleman, he 
seemed out of patience with me for the objection. You 
say papa has penetration. On this subject I believe he 
has indeed. I have told him nothing, yet he seems to be 
au fait to the whole business. I could think at some 
moments his guesses go farther than mine. I believe he 
thinks a prospective union, deferred for five years, with 
such a decorous reliable personage, would be a very proper 
and advisable affair. 

How has your tic been lately? I had one fiery night 
w^hen this same dragon '' tic " held me for some hours with 
pestilent violence. It still comes at intervals with abated 
fury. Owing to this and broken sleep, I am looking 
singularly charming, one of my true London looks — 
starv^ed out and worn down. Write soon, dear Nell. — 
Yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

112 Gloucester Place, 
H\T)E Park, June 2nd, 185 1. 

Dear Ellen, — Mr. Taylor has gone some weeks since. 
I hear more open complaints now about his temper. Of 
Mr. Williams' society I have enjoyed one evening's allow- 
ance, and liked it and him as usual. On such occasions 
his good qualities of ease, kindliness, and intelligence are 

296 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

seen^ and his little faults and foibles hidden. Mr. Smith 
is somewhat changed in appearance. He looks a^little 
older^ darker^ and more careworn ; his ordinary manner is 
graver^ but in the evening his spirits flow back to him. 
Things and circumstances seem here to be as usual, but 
I fancy there has been some crisis in which his energy and 
filial affection have sustained them all. This I judge 
from the fact that his mother and sisters are more pecu- 
liarly bound to him than ever, and that his slightest wish 
is an unquestioned law. — Faithfully yours, 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

November 4th, 1851. 

Dear Ellen, — Papa, Tabby, and Martha are at present 
all better, yet none of them well. Martha at present looks 
feeble. I wish she had a better constitution. As it is, 
one is alw^ays afraid of giving her too much to do; and 
yet there are many things I cannot undertake myself, 
and we do not like to change when we have had her so 
long. How are you getting on in the matter of servants ? 
The other day I received a long letter from Mr. Taylor. I 
told you I did not expect to hear thence, nor did I. The 
letter is long, but it is worth your while to read it. In its 
way it has merit, that cannot be denied; abundance of 
information, talent of a certain kind, alloyed (I think) 
here and there with errors of taste. He might have spared 
many of the details of the bath scene, which, for the rest, 
tallies exactly with Mr. Thackeray's account of the same 
process. This little man with all his long letters remains 
as much a conundrum to me as ever. Your account of the 
domestic joys at Hunsworth amused me much. The good 
folks seem very happy — long may they continue so ! It 
somewhat cheers me to know that such happiness does 
exist on the earth. Return Mr. Taylor's letter when you 
have read it. With love to your mother, — I am, dear 
Nell, sincerely yours, C. Bg 

297 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO JAMES TAYLOR, Bombay 

Haworth, November i^th, 1851. 

My dear Sir, — Both your communications reached me 
safely — the note of the 17th September and the letter of 
the 2nd October. You do yourself less than justice when 
you stigmatise the latter as *^ ill-written/' I found it 
quite legible, nor did I lose a word, though the lines and 
letters were so close. I should have been sorry if such 
had not been the case, as it appeared to me throughout 
highly interesting. It is observable that the very same 
information which we have previously collected, perhaps 
with rather languid attention, from printed books, when 
placed before us in familiar manuscript, and comprising 
the actual experience of a person with whom we are 
acquainted, acquires a new and vital interest: when we 
know the narrator we seem to realise the tale. 

The bath scene amused me much. Your account of 
that operation tallies in every point with Mr. Thackeray's 
-description in the Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo. 
The usage seems a little rough, and I cannot help thinking 
that equal benefit might be obtained through less violent 
means; but I suppose without the previous fatigue the 
after-sensation would not be so enjoyable, and no doubt 
it is that indolent after-sensation which the self-indulgent 
Mahometans chiefly cultivate. I think you did right to 
disdain it. 

It would seem to me a matter of great regret that the 
society at Bombay should be so deficient in all intellectual 
attraction. Perhaps, however, your occupations will so 
far absorb your thoughts as to prevent them from dwelling 
painfully on this circumstance. No doubt there will be 
moments when you will look back to London and Scotland, 
and the friends you have left there, with some yearning; 
but I suppose business has its own excitement. The new 
country, the new scenes too, must have their interest; 
and as you will not lack books to fill your leisure, you will 
probably soon become reconciled to a change which, for 
some minds, would too closely resemble exile. 

298 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

I fear the climate — such as you describe it — must be very 
trying to an European constitution. In your first letter 
you mentioned October as the month of danger; it is 
now over. Whether you have passed its ordeal safely, 
must yet for some weeks remain unknown to your friends 
in England — they can but wish that such may be the case. 
You will not expect me to ^\Tite a letter that shall form a 
parallel with your own either in quantity or quality; 
what I write must be brief ^ and what I communicate must 
be commonplace and of trivial interest. 

My father^ I am thankful to say^ continues in pretty 
good health. I read portions of your letter to him and he 
was interested in hearing them. He charged me when I 
wrote to convey his very kind remembrances. 

I had myself ceased to expect a letter from you. On 
taking leave at Haworth you said something about 
writing from India^ but I doubted at the time whether 
it was not one of those forms of speech which politeness 
dictates ; and as time passed, and I did not hear from you 
I became confirmed in this view of the subject. With 
every good wishes for your welfare, — I am, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

November igth, 1851. 
Dear Ellen^ — All here is much as usual, and I was 
thinking of wTiting to you this morning when I received 
your note. I am glad to hear your mother bears this 
severe weather tolerably, as papa does also. I had a 
cold, chiefly in the throat and chest, but I applied cold 
water, which relieved me, I think, far better than hot 
applications would have done. The only events in my 
life consist in that little change occasional letters bring. 
I have had two from Miss Wooler since she left Haworth 
which touched me much. She seems to think so much of 
a little congenial company. She says she has not for 
many days kno\\Ti such enjo}Tnent as she experienced 
during the ten days she stayed here. Yet you know what 
Haworth is — dull enough. 

299 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

How could you imagine your last letter offended me ? I 
only disagreed with you on 07ie point. The little man's 
disdain of the sensual pleasure of a Turkish bath had^ I 
must owTi, my approval. Before answering his epistle 
I got up my courage to wTite to Mr. Williams, through 
whose hands or those of Mr. Smith I knew the Indian 
letter had come, and beg him to give me an impartial 
judgment of Mr. Taylor's character and disposition, 
owning that I was very much in the dark. I did not 
like to continue correspondence without further informa- 
tion. I got the answer, which I inclose. You say nothing 
about the Hunsworth Turtle-doves — how are they? and 
how is the branch of promise ? I hope doing well. — Yours 
faithfully, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

January ist, 1852. 

My dear Sir, — I am glad of the opportunity of writing 
to you, for I have long wished to send you a little note, and 
was only deterred from doing so by the conviction that 
the period preceding Christmas must be a very busy one 
to you. 

I have washed to thank you for your last, which gave 
me very genuine pleasure. You ascribe to Mr. Taylor 
an excellent character: such a man's friendship, at any 
rate, should not be disregarded ; and if the principles and 
disposition be what you say, faults of manner and even 
of temper ought to weigh light in the balance. I always 
believed in his judgment and good sense, but w^hat I 
doubted was his kindness — he seemed to me a little too 
harsh, rigid, and unsympathising. Now, judgment, sense, 
principle are invaluable and quite indispensable points, 
but one would be thankful for a little feeling, a little 
indulgence in addition — without these, poor falHble 
human nature shrinks under the domination of the sterner 
qualities. I answered Mr. Taylor's letter by the mail of 
the 19th November, sending it direct, for, on reflection, 
I did not see why I should trouble you with it. 

300 



Charlotte Bronte's Lovers 

Did your son Frank call on Mrs. Gaskell? and how did 
he like her? 

My health has not been very satisfactory lately, but I 
think; though I vary almost daily^ I am much better than 
I was a fortnight ago. All the winter the fact of my never 
being able to stoop over a desk without bringing on pain 
and oppression in the chest has been a great affliction to 
me^ and the want of tranquil rest at night has tried me 
much; but I hope for the better times. The doctors say 
that there is no organic mischief. 

Wishing a happy New Year to yoU; C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

March "jthy 1852. 

Dear Ellen^ — I hope both your mother's cold and 
yours are quite well ere this. Papa has got something 
of his spring attack of bronchitis, but so far it is in a 
greatly ameliorated form, very different to what it has 
been for three years past. I do trust it may pass off thus 
mildly. I continue better. 

Dear Nell, I told you from the beginning that my going 
to Sussex was a most improbable event; I tell you now 
that unless want of health should absolutely compel me 
to give up work and leave home (which I trust and hope 
will not be the case) I certainly shall not think of going. It 
is better to be decided, and decided I must be. You can 
never want me less than when in Sussex surrounded by 
amusement and friends. I do not know that I shall go to 
Scarbro', but it might be possible to spare a fortnight to 
go there (for the sake of a sad duty rather than pleasure), 
when I could not give a month to a longer excursion. I 
have not a word of news to tell you. Many mails have 
come from India since I was at Brookroyd. Expec ation 
would at times be on the alert, but disappointment 
knocked her down. I have not heard a syllable, and 
cannot think of making inquiries at Cornhill. Well, 
long suspense in any matter usually proves somewhat 

301 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

cankering^ but God orders all things for us, and to His 
Will we must submit. Be sure to keep a calm mind; 
expect nothing. — Yours faithfully^ C. Bronte. 

When Mr. Taylor returned to England in 1856 Char- 
lotte Bronte was dead. His after-life was more success- 
ful than happy. He did not, it is true, succeed in 
Bombay with the firm of Smith, Taylor & Co. That 
would seem to have collapsed. But he made friends in 
Bombay and returned there in 1863 as editor of the 
Bombay Gazette and the Bombay Quarterly Review. A 
little later he became editor of the Bombay Saturday 
Review, which had not, however, a long career. Mr. 
Taylor's successes were not journalistic but mercantile. 
As Secretary of the Bombay Chamber of Commerce, 
which appointment he obtained in 1865, he obtained 
much real distinction. To this post he added that of 
Registrar of the University of Bombay and many other 
offices. He w^as elected Sheriff in 1874, in which year 
he died. An imposing funeral ceremony took place in 
the Cathedral, and he was buried in the Bombay ceme- 
tery, where his tomb may be found to the left of the 
entrance gates, inscribed — 

JAMES TAYLOR. DIED APRIL 29, 1S74, AGED 57. 

He married during his visit to England, but the marriage 
was not a happy one. That does not belong to the 
present story. Here, how^ever, is a cutting from the 
Times marriage record in 1863: — 

'* On the 23rd inst., at the Church of St. John the 
Evangelist, St. Pancras, by the Rev. James Moorhouse, 
M.A., James Taylor, Esq., of Furnival's-inn and Bom- 
bay, to Annie, wddow of Adolph Ritter, of Vienna, and 
Stepdaughter of Thos. Harrison, Esq., of Birchanger 
Place. Essex." 



302 



CHAPTER XIII 

LITERARY AMBITIONS 

We have seen how Charlotte Bronte and her sisters 
wrote from their earhest ^^-ears those little books which 
embodied their vague aspirations after literary fame. 
Now and again the effort is admirable, notably in The 
Adventures of Ernest Alemhert, but on the whole it 
amounts to as little as did the juvenile productions of 
Shelley. That poet, it wdll be remembered, wrote 
Zastrozzi at nineteen, and much else that was bad, some 
of which he printed. Charlotte Bronte was mercifully 
restrained by a well-nigh empty purse from this ill- 
considered rashness. It was not till the death of their 
aunt had added to their slender resources that the 
Bronte girls conceived the idea of actually publishing 
a book at their own expense. 

The reception which these Poems met with from the 
public may be gathered from the following letter which 
accompanied De Quincey's copy.^ 

TO THOMAS DE QUINCEY 

June i6th, 1847. 

SiR^ — My relatives^ Ellis and Acton Bell^ and myself, 
heedless of the repeated warnings of various respectable 
publishers^ have committed the rash act of printing a 
volume of poems. 

The consequences predicted have, of course, overtaken 
us: our book is found to be a drug; no man needs it or 
heeds it. In the space of a year our publisher has disposed 
of two copies, and by what painful efforts he succeeded 
in getting rid of these two, himself only knows. 

Before transferring the edition to the trunkmakers, we 
have decided on distributing as presents a few copies of 

^ De Quincey Memorials , by Alexander H, Japp. 2 vols. 1891. 
William Heinemann. 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

what we cannot sell; and we beg to offer you one in 
acknowledgment of the pleasure and profit we have often 
and long derived from your works. — I am, sir, yours very 
respectfully, Currer Bell. 

Charlotte Bronte could not have carried out the pro- 
ject of distribution to any appreciable extent, as a con- 
siderable *' remainder*' appear to have been bound up 
with a new title-page by Smith & Elder. With this 
Smith & Elder title-page, the book is not uncommon, 
whereas, with the Aylott & Jones title-page it is ex- 
ceedingly rare. Perhaps there were a dozen review 
copies and a dozen presentation copies, in addition to the 
two that w^ere sold, but only three or four seem to have 
survived for the pleasure of the latter-day bibliophile. 

Here is the title-page in question: — *' Poems by 
Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell. London, Aylott & Jones, 
8 Paternoster Row. 1846." 

We see by the letter to Aylott & Jones the first an- 
nouncement of Wuthering Heights, Agnes Grey, and The 
Professor, It would not seem that there was much, or 
indeed any, difficulty in disposing of Wuthering Heights 
and Agnes Grey. They bear the imprint of Newby of 
Mortimer Street, and they appeared in three uniform 
volumes, the two first being taken up by Wuthering 
Heights, and the third by Agnes Grey,^ which is quaintly 
marked as if it were a three-volumed novel in itself, 
having "Volume III'* on title-page and binding. I 
have said that there were no travels before the manu- 
scripts of Emily and Anne. That is not quite certain. 
Mrs. Gaskell implies that there were; but, at any rate, 
there is no definite information on the subject. Newby, 
it is clear, did not publish them until all the world was 
discussing Jane Eyre. The Professor, by Currer Bell, 
had, however, travel enough! It was offered to six 
publishers in succession before it came into the hands of 
Mr. W. S. WiUiams, the '* reader " for Smith & Elder. 
The circumstance of its courteous refusal by that firm, 
and the suggestion that a three-volumed novel would be 
gladly considered, are within the knowledge of all 
Charlotte Bronte's admirers. 

One cannot but admire the fearless and uncompromis- 

^ Agnes Grey^ a uovel, by Acton Bell. Vol. III. London, 
Thomas Cautley Newby, publisher, 72 Mortimer Street, Cavendish 
Square. 

3*^4 



Literary Ambitions 

ing honesty wdth which Charlotte Bronte sent the j\ISS. 
lound with all its previous journeys frankly indicated. 

It is not easy at this time of day to understand why 
Mr. Williams refused The Professor. The story is in- 
comparably superior to the average novel, and, indeed, 
contains touches which are equal to an3^thing that 
Currer Bell ever ^vrote. It seems to me possible that 
Charlotte Bronte rewrote the story after its rejection, 
but the manuscript does not bear out that impression.! 

Charlotte Bronte's method of writing was to take a 
piece of cardboard — the broken cover of a book, in fact 
— and a few sheets of note-paper, and write her first form 
of a story upon these sheets in a tiny handwriting in 
pencil. She would afterwards copy the whole out upon 
quarto paper very neatly in ink. None of the original 
pencilled MSS. of her greater novels have been preserved. 
The extant manuscripts of Jane Eyre and The Professor 
are in ink. 

Jane Eyre was immediately accepted. It was pub- 
lished in the third week of October 1847. 

The following letters were received by Mr. Williams 
while the book was beginning its course. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

October 4th , 1847. 

Dear Sir, — I thank you sincerely for your last letter. 
It is valuable to me because it furnishes me with a sound- 
opinion on points respecting which I desired to be advised; 
be assured I shall do what I can to profit by your wise and 
good counsel. 

Permit me, however, sir, to caution you against forming 

too favourable an idea of my powers, or too sanguine an 

expectation of what they can achieve. I am myself 

sensible both of deficiencies of capacity and disadvantages 

of circumstance which will, I fear, render it somewhat 

^ Mr. Nicholls assured me that the manuscript was not rewritten 
after his marriage, although I had thought it possible, not only on 
account of its intrinsic merits, which have not been sufhciently 
acknowledged, but on account of the singular fact that Mile. Henri, 
the charming heroine, is married in a white muslin dress, and that 
her going-away dress was of lilac silk. These were the actual 
wedding dresses of Mrs. Nicholls. 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

•difficult for me to attain popularity as an author. The 
eminent writers you mention — Mr. Thackeray^ Mr. Dickens, 
Mrs. Marsh/ etc.^ doubtless enjoyed facilities for observa- 
tion such as I have not; certainly they possess a knowledge 
of the world, whether intuitive or acquired, such as I can 
lay no claim to, and this gives their writings an importance 
and a variety greatly beyond what I can offer the public. 

Still, if health be spared and time vouchsafed me, I mean 
to do my best; and should a moderate success crown my 
efforts, its value will be greatly enhanced by the proof it 
will seem to give that your kind counsel and encouragement 
have not been bestowed on one quite unworthy. — Yours 
arespectfully, C. Bell. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

October gth, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — I do not know whether the Dublin Uni- 
versity Magazine is included in the list of periodicals to 
which Messrs. Smith & Elder are accustomed to send 
•copies of new publications, but as a former work, the 
joint production of myself and my two relatives, Ellis and 
Acton Bell, received a somewhat favourable notice in that 
magazine, it appears to me that if the editor's attention 
were drawn to Jane Eyre he might possibly bestow on it 
also a few words of remark. 

The Critic and the Athenceum also gave comments on 
the work I allude to. The review in the first-mentioned 
paper was unexpectedly and generously eulogistic, that 
in the Athenceum more qualified, but still not discouraging. 
I mention these circumstances and leave it to you to 
judge whether any advantage is derivable from them. 

You dispensed me from the duty of answering your last 

1 Anne Marsh (1791-1874), a daughter of James Caldwell, J. P., 
•of Linley Wood, vStaffordshire, married a son of the senior partner 
in the London banking firm of Marsh, Stacey & Graham. Her 
first volume appeared in 1834, and contained, under the title of 
Two Old Men's Tales, two stories, The Admiral's Daughter and The 
Deformed, which won considerable popularity. Emilia Wyndham, 
Time, the Avenger, Mount Sorel, and Castle Avon, are perhaps the 
best of her many subsequent novels. 

306 



Literary Ambitions 

letter, but my sense of the justness of the views it expresses 
^^'ill not permit me to neglect this opportunity both of 
acknowledging it and thanking you for it. — Yours 
sincerely, C. Bell. 

TO W. S. WILLL\^IS 

Haworth, December i^th, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — Your advice merits and shall have my most 
serious attention. I feel the force of vour reasonins^. It 
is my wish to do my best in the career on which I have 
entered. So I shall study and strive; and by dint of 
time, thought, and effort, I hope yet to deserve in part 
the encouragem^ent you and others have so generously 
accorded me. But ti?ne will be necessary — that I feel 
more than ever. In case of Jane Eyre reaching a second 
edition, I should wish some few corrections to be mxade, 
and will prepare an errata. How would the accompany- 
ing preface do ? I thought it.better to be brief. 

The Observer has just reached me. I always compel 
myseK to read the analysis in every newspaper-notice. 
It is a just punishment, a due though severe humiliation 
for faults of plan and construction. I wonder if the analy- 
sis of other fictions read as absurdly as that of Jane Eyre 
always does. — I am, dear sir, yours respectfully, 

C. Bell. 

The following letter is interesting because it discusses 

the rejected novel, and refers to the project of recasting 
it, which ended in the writing of Villette^ 

TO W. S. WILLIAjMS 

December i^ih, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — I have just received your kind and welcome 
letter of the nth. I shall proceed at once to discuss the 
principal subject of it. 

Of course a second work has occupied my thoughts 

^ The Professor was published, with a brief note by Mr. Nicholls, 
two years alter the death of its author. The Professor^ a Tale, by 
Currer BeU, in two volunaes. Smith, Elder *2c Co., 65 Cornhill, 
1S57. 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

much. I think it would be premature in me to undertake 
a serial now — I am not yet qualified for the task: I have 
neither gained a sufficiently firm footing with the public, 
nor do I possess sufficient confidence in myself, nor can I 
boast those unflagging animal spirits, that even command 
of the faculty of composition, which as you say, and, I 
am persuaded, most justly, is an indispensable requisite 
to success in serial literature. I decidedly feel that ere 
I change my ground I had better make another venture 
in the three volume novel form. 

Respecting the plan of such a work, I have pondered it, 
but as yet with very unsatisfactory results. Three com- 
mencements have I essayed, but all three displease me. 
A few days since I looked over The Professor. I found the 
beginning very feeble, the whole narrative deficient in 
incident and in general attractiveness. Yet the middle 
and latter portion of the work, all that relates to Brussels, 
the Belgian school, etc., is as good as I can write: it con- 
tains more pith, more substance, more reality, in my 
judgment, than much of Jane Eyre, It gives, I think, a 
new view of a grade, an occupation, and a class of characters 
— all very commonplace, very insignificant in themselves, 
but not more so than the materials composing that portion 
of Jane Eyre which seems to please most generally. 

My wish is to recast The Professor, add as well as I can 
what is deficient, retrench some parts, develop others, and 
make of it a three volume work — no easy task, I know, 
yet I trust not an impracticable one. 

I have not forgotten that The Professor was set aside 
in my agreement with Messrs. Smith & Elder; therefore 
before I take any step to execute the plan I have sketched, 
I should wish to have your judgment on its wisdom. You 
read or looked over the MS. — what impression have you 
now respecting its worth ? and what confidence have you 
that I can make it better than it is ? 

Feeling certain that from business reasons as well as 
from natural integrity you will be quite candid with me, 
I esteem it a privilege to be able thus to consult you. — 
Believe me, dear sir, yours respectfully, C. Bell. 

308 



Literary Ambitions 

Wuthertng Heights is^ I suppose^ at length published, at 
least Mr. Newby has sent the authors their six copies. I 
wonder how it wall be received. I should say it merits 
the epithets of *' vigorous " and ^' original " much more 
decidedly than Jane Eyre did. Agnes Grey should please 
such critics as Mr. Lewes, for it is *' true " and '' un- 
exaggerated " enough. The books are not well got up — 
they abound in errors of the press. On a former occasion 
I expressed myself with perhaps too little reserve regard- 
ing Mr. Newby, yet I cannot but feel, and feel painfully, 
that Ellis and Acton have not had the justice at his hands 
that I have had at those of Messrs. Smith & Elder. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

December 3i<r/, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — I think, for the reasons you mention, it is 
better to substitute author for editor, I should not be 
ashamed to be considered the author of Wuthering Heights 
and Agnes Grey, but, possessing no real claim to that 
honour, I would rather not have it attributed to me, 
thereby depriving the true authors of their just meed. 

You do very rightly and very kindly to tell me the 
objections made against Ja7ie Eyre — they are more 
essential than the praises. I feel a sort of heart-ache when 
I hear the book called " godless " and " pernicious " by 
good and earnest-minded men; but I know that heart- 
ache will be salutary — at least I trust so. 

What is meant by the charges of trickery and artifice I 
have yet to comprehend. It was no art in me to write a 
tale — it was no trick in Messrs. Smith & Elder to publish 
it. Where do the trickery and artifice lie ? 

I have received the Scotsman, and was greatly amused 
to see Jane Eyre likened to Rebecca Sharp — the resem- 
blance would hardly have occurred to me. 

I wish to send this note by to-day's post, and must 
therefore conclude in haste. — I am, dear sir, yours respect- 
fully, C. Bell. 

309 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Ha WORTH, January 4th, 1848. 

Dear Sir, — Your letter made me ashamed of myself 
that I should ever have uttered a murmur, or expressed 
by any sign that I was sensible of pain from the un- 
favourable opinions of some misjudging but well-meaning 
people. But, indeed, let me assure you, I am not ungrate- 
ful for the kindness which has been given me in such 
abundant measure. I can discriminate the proportions 
in which blame and praise have been awarded to my 
efforts : I see well that I have had less of the former and 
more of the latter than I merit. I am not therefore 
crushed, though I may be momentarily saddened by the 
frown, even of the good. 

It would take a great deal to crush me, because I 
know, in the first place, that my own intentions were 
correct, that I feel in my heart a deep reverence for 
religion, that impiety is very abhorrent to me; and in the 
second, I place firm reliance on the judgment of some who 
have encouraged me. You and Mr. Lewes are quite as 
good authorities, in my estimation, as Mr. Dilke or the 
editor of the Spectator, and I would not under any circum- 
stances, or for any opprobrium, regard with shame what 
my friends had approved — none but a coward would let 
the detraction of an enemy outweigh the encouragement 
of a friend. You must not, therefore, fulfil your threat 
of being less communicative in future; you must kindly 
tell me all. 

Miss Kavanagh's view of the maniac coincides with 
Leigh Hunt's. I agree with them that the character is 
shocking, but I know that it is but too natural. There is 
a phase of insanity which may be called moral madness, 
in which all that is good or even human seems to disappear 
from the mind, and a fiend-nature replaces it. The sole 
aim and desire of the being thus possessed is to exasperate, 
to molest, to destroy, and preternatural ingenuity and 
energy are often exercised to that dreadful end. The 
aspect, in such cases, assimilates with the disposition — 

310 



Literary Ambitions 

all seem demonised. It is true that profound pity ought 
to be the only sentiment elicited by the view of such 
degradation, and equally true is it that I have not suffi- 
ciently dwelt on that feeling: I have erred in making 
horror too predominant. Mrs. Rochester, indeed, lived 
a sinful life before she was insane, but sin is itself a species 
of insanity — the truly good behold and compassionate 
it as such. 

Jane Eyre has got down into Yorkshire, a copy has even 
penetrated into this neighbourhood. I saw an elderly 
clergyman reading it the other day, and had the satisfac- 
tion of hearing him exclaim, ** Why, they have got 

School, and Mr. here, I declare! and Miss " 

(naming the originals of Lowood, Mr. Brocklehurst and 
Miss Temple). He had known them all. I wondered 
whether he would recognise the portraits, and was 
gratified to find that he did, and that, moreover, he pro- 
nounced them faithful and just. He said, too, that Mr. 

(Brocklehurst) ^* deserved the chastisement he had 

got." 

He did not recognise Currer Bell. What author would 
be without the advantage of being able to walk invisible ? 
One is thereby enabled to keep such a quiet mind. I make 
this small observation in confidence. 

What makes you say that the notice in the Westminster 
Review is not by Mr. Lewes? It expresses precisely his 
opinions, and he said he would perhaps insert a few lines 
in that periodical. 

I have sometimes thought that I ought to have written 
to Mr. Lewes to thank him for his review in Fraser ; and, . 
indeed, I did write a note, but then it occurred to me that 
he did not require the author's thanks, and I feared it 
would be superfluous to send it, therefore I refrained; 
however, though I have not expressed gratitude I have 
felt it. 

I wish you, too, many many happy new years, and 
prosperity and success to you and yours. — Believe me, 
etc., Currer Bell. 

I have received the Courier and the Oxford Chronicle^ 

311 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

January 22ndy 1848. 

Dear Sir^ — I have received the Morning Herald, and 
was much pleased with the notice^ chiefly on account of 
the reference made to that portion of the preface which 
concerns Messrs. Smith & Elder. If my tribute of 
thanks can benefit my publishers, it is desirable that it 
should have as much publicity as possible. 

I do not know if the part which relates to Mr. Thackeray 
is likely to be as well received; but whether generally 
approved of and understood or not, I shall not regret 
having written it, for I am convinced of its truth. 

I see I was mistaken in my idea that the Aihenceum and 
others wished to ascribe the authorship of Wuthering 
Heights to Currer Bell; the contrary is the case, Jane Eyre 
is given to Ellis Bell; and Mr. Newby, it appears, thinks 
it expedient so to frame his advertisements as to favour 
the misapprehension. If Mr. Newby had much sagacity 
he would see that Ellis Bell is strong enough to stand 
without being propped by Currer Bell, and would have 
disdained what Ellis himself of all things disdains — recourse 
to trickery. However, Ellis, Acton, and Currer care, 
nothing for the matter personally; the public and the 
critics are welcome to confuse our indentities as much 
as they choose; my only fear is lest Messrs. Smith &. 
Elder should in some way be annoyed by it. 

I was much interested in your account of Miss Kavanagh. 
The character you sketch belongs to a class I peculiarly 
esteem: one in which endurance combines with exertion,, 
talent with goodness; where genius is found unmarred: 
by extravagance, self-reliance unalloyed by self-com- 
placency. It is a character which is, I believe, rarely- 
found except where there has been toil to undergo and. 
adversity to struggle against : it will only grow to perfec- 
tion in a poor soil and in the shade ; if the soil be too in- 
digent, the shade too dank and thick, of course it dies- 
where it sprung. But I trust this will not be the case 
with Miss Kavanagh. I trust she will struggle ere long; 

312 



Literary Ambitions 

into the sunshine. In you she has a kind friend to direct 
her^ and I hope her mother will live to see the daughter, 
who yields to her such childlike duty^ both happy and 
successful. 

You asked me if I should like any copies of the second 
edition of Jane Eyre, and I said — ^no. It is true I do not 
want any for myself or my acquaintances^ but if the request 
be not unusual, I should much like one to be given to 
Miss Kavanagh. If you would have the goodness, you 
might write on the fly-leaf that the book is presented with 
the author's best wishes for her welfare here and hereafter. 
My reason for wishing that she should have a copy is 
because she said the book had been to her a suggestive 
one, and I know that suggestive books are valuable to 
authors. 

I am truly sorry to hear that Mr. Smith has had an 
attack of the prevalent complaint, but I trust his recovery 
is by this time complete. I cannot boast entire exemption 
from its ravages, as I now write under its depressing 
influence. Hoping that you have been more fortunate, — 
I am, dear sir, yours faithfully, C. Bell. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

March 2,rd, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — I have received the ChnsHajt Remem- 
brancer, and read the review. It is written with some 
ability; but to do justice was evidently not the critic's 
main object, therefore he excuses himself from performing 
that duty. 

I daresay the reviewer imagines that Currer Bell ought 
to be extremely afflicted, very much cut up, by some smart 
things he says — this however is not the case. C. Bell is 
on the whole rather encouraged than dispirited by the 
review: the hard-wrung praise extorted reluctantly from 
a foe is the most precious praise of all — you are sure that 
this, at least, has no admixture of flattery. I fear he has 
too high an opinion of my abilities and of what I can do ; 
but that is his own fault. In other respects, he aims his 

3^3 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

shafts in the dark^ and the success^ or, rather, ill-success 
of his hits makes me laugh rather than cry. His shafts 
of sarcasm are nicely polished, keenly pointed ; he should 
not have wasted them in shooting at a mark he cannot 
see. 

I hope such reviews will not make much difference with 
me, and that if the spirit moves me in future to say any- 
thing about priests, etc., I shall say it with the same free- 
dom as heretofore. I hope also that their anger will not 
make me angry. As a body, I had no ill-will against them 
to begin with, and I feel it would be an error to let opposi- 
tion engender such ill-will. A few individuals may possibly 
be called upon to sit for their portraits some time ; if their 
brethren in general dislilce the resemblance and abuse the 
artist — tant pis I — Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely, 

C. Bell. 

It seems that Mr. Williams had hinted that Charlotte 
might like to emulate Thackeray by illustrating her own 
books. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

March nth, 1848. 

Dear Sir, — I have just received the copy of the second 
edition, and will look over it, and send the corrections as 
soon as possible; I will also, since you think it advisable, 
avail myself of the opportunity of a third edition to correct 
the mistake respecting the authorship of Wuthering 
Heights and Agnes Grey, 

As to your second suggestion, it is, one can see at a 
glance, a very judicious and happy one; but I cannot 
adopt it, because I have not the skill you attribute to me. 
It is not enough to have the artist's eye, one must also 
have the artist's hand to turn the first gift to practical 
account. I have, in my day, wasted a certain quantity 
of Bristol board and drawing-paper, crayons and cakes of 
colour, but when I examine the contents of my portfolio 
now, it seems as if during the years it has been lying closed 
some fairy had changed what I once thought sterling coin 

314 



Literary Ambitions 

into dry leaves^ and I feel much inclined to consign the 
whole collection of drawings to the fire: I see they have 
no value. If^ then^ Jane Eyre is ever to be illustrated^ it 
must be by some hand other than that of its author. But 
I hope no one will be at the trouble to make portraits of 
my characters. Bulwer and Byron heroes and heroines 
are very well^ they are all of them handsome; but my 
personages are mostly unattractive in look^ and therefore 
ill-adapted to figure in ideal portraits. At the best^ I 
have always thought such representations futile. You 
will not easily find a second Thackeray. How^ he can 
render, with a few black lines and dots, shades of expres- 
sion so fine, so real; traits of character so minute, so 
subtle, so difficult to seize and fix, I cannot tell — I can 
only wonder and admire. Thackeray may not be a 
painter, but he is a wizard of a draughtsman; touched with 
his pencil, paper lives. And then his drawing is so re- 
freshing; after the wooden limbs one is accustomed to see 
pourtrayed by commonplace illustrators, his shapes of 
bone and muscle clothed with flesh, correct in proportion 
and anatomy, are a real relief. All is true in Thackeray. 
If Truth were again a goddess, Thackeray should be her 
high priest. 

I read my preface over with some pain — I did not like 
it. I wrote it when I was a little enthusiastic, like you, 
about the French Revolution. I wish I had written it 
in a cool moment; I should have said the same things, 
but in a different manner. One may be as enthusiastic 
as one likes about an author who has been dead a century 
or two, but I see it is a fault to bore the pubhc with 
enthusiasm about a living author. I promise myself to 
take better care in future. Still I will think as I please. 

Are the London republicans, and you amongst the 
number, cooled down yet? I suppose not, because your 
French brethren are acting very nobly. The abolition 
of slavery and of the punishment of death for political 
oft^ences are two glorious deeds, but how will they get 
over the question of the organisation of labour! Such 
theories will be the sand-bank on which their vessel will 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

run aground if they don't mind. Lamartine^ there is no 
doubt, would make an excellent legislator for a nation of 
Lamartines — but where is that nation? I hope these 
observations are sceptical and cool enough. — Believe me, 
my dear sir, yours sincerely, C. Bell. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

November i6th, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — I have already acknowledged in a note 
to Mr. Smith the receipt of the parcel of books, and in my 
thanks for this w^ell-timed attention I am sure I ought to 
include you; your taste, I thought, was recognisable in 
the choice of some of the volumes, and a better selection 
it would have been difficult to make. 

To-day I have received the Spectator and the Revue des 
deux Mondes, The Spectator consistently maintains the 
tone it first assumed regarding the Bells. I have little 
to object to its opinion as far as Currer BelFs portion of the 
volume is concerned. It is true the critic sees only the 
faults, but for these his perception is tolerably accurate. 
Blind is he as any bat, insensate as any stone, to the merits 
of Ellis. He cannot feel or will not acknowledge that the 
very finish and labor limce which Currer wants, Ellis has; 
he is not aware that the ^' true essence of poetry " per- 
vades his compositions. Because Ellis's poems are short 
and abstract, the critics think them comparatively in- 
significant and dull. They are mistaken. 

The notice in the Revue des deux Mondes is one of the 
most able, the most acceptable to the author, of any that 
has yet appeared. Eugene For9ade understood and 
enjoyed Jane Eyre, I cannot say that of all who have 
professed to criticise it. The censures are as well-founded 
as the commendations. The specimens of the translation 
given are on the whole good ; now and then the meaning 
of the original has been misapprehended, but generally 
it is well rendered. 

Every cup given us to taste in this life is mixed. Once 
it would have seemed to me that an evidence of success 

316 



Literary Ambitions 

like that contained in the Revue would have excited an 
almost exultant feeling in my mind. It comes^ however, 
at a time when counteracting circumstances keep the 
balance of the emotions even — when my sister's continued 
illness darkens the present and dims the future. That 
will seem to me a happy day when I can announce to 
you that Emily is better. Her symptoms continue to 
be those of slow inflammation of the lungs, tight cough, 
difficulty of breathing, pain in the chest, and fever. We 
watch anxiously for a change for the better — may it soon 
come. — I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

As I was about to seal this I received your kind letter. 
Truly glad am I to hear that Fanny is taking the path 
which pleases her parents. I trust she may persevere in 
it. She may be sure that a contrary one will never lead 
to happiness ; and I should think that the reward of seeing 
you and her mother pleased must be so sweet that she 
will be careful not to run the risk of forfeiting it. 

It is somewhat singular that I had already observed 
to my sisters, I did not doubt it was Mr. Lewes who had 
shown you the Revue, 

The many other letters referring to Emily's last illness 
have already been printed. 



TO JAMES TAYLOR, Cornhill 

March ist, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — ^The parcel arrived on Saturday evening. 
Permit me to express my sense of the judgment and kind- 
ness which have dictated the selection of its contents. 
They appear to be all good books, and good books are, 
we know, the best substitute for good society; if circum- 
stances debar me from the latter privilege, the kind 
attentions of my friends supply me with ample measure 
of the former. 

Thank you for your remarks on Shirley, Some of your 

317 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

strictures tally with some by Mr. Williams. You both 
complain of the want of distinctness and impressiveness 
in my heroes. Probably you are right. In delineating 
male character I labour under disadvantages: intuition 
-and theory will not always adequately supply the place 
of observation and experience. When I write about 
women I am sure of my ground — in the other case, I am 
not so sure. 

Here then, each of you has laid the critical finger on a 
point that by its slirinking confesses its vulnerabihty; 
whether the disapprobation you intimate respecting the 
Briarchapel scenes, the curates, etc., be equally merited, 
time will show. I am well aware what will be the author's 
present meed for these passages; I anticipate general 
blame and no praise. And were my motive-principle 
in ^^Titing a thirst for popularity, or were the chief check 
on my pen a dread of censure, I should withdraw these 
scenes — or rather, I should never have written them. 
I will not say whether the considerations that really govern 
me are sound, or whether my convictions are just; but 
such as they are, to their influence I must yield submission. 
They forbid me to sacrifice truth to the fear of blame. I 
accept their prohibition. 

With the sincere expression of my esteem for the can- 
dour by which your critique is distinguished, — I am, my 
dear sir, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

August i6thj 1849. 

My dear Sir, — Since I last wrote to you I have been 
getting on with my book as well as I can, and I think I 
may now venture to say that in a few weeks I hope to 
have the pleasure of placing the MS. in the hands of Mr. 
Smith. 

The North British Review duly reached me. I read 
attentively all it says about E. Wyndham, Jane Eyre, and 
F. Hervey, Much of the article is clever, and yet there 
are remarks which — for me — rob it of importance. 

318 



Literary Ambitions 

To value praise or stand in awe of blame we must respect 
the source whence the praise and blame proceed, and I dO' 
not respect an inconsistent critic. He says, "if Jane 
Eyre be the production of a woman, she must be a woman 
unsexed." 

In that case the book is an unredeemed error and should 
be unreservedly condemned. Jane Eyre is a woman's 
autobiography, by a woman it is professedly written. 
If it is written as no woman would write, condemn it with 
spirit and decision — say it is bad, but do not eulogise and 
than detract. I am reminded of the Economist, The 
literary critic of that paper praised the book if written by 
a man, and pronounced it '^ odious " if the work of a. 
woman. 

To such critics I would say, " To you I am neither man 
nor woman — I come before you as an author only. It is 
the sole standard by which you have a right to judge me — 
the sole ground on which I accept your judgment." 

There is a weak comment, having no pretence either ta 
justice or discrimination, on the works of Ellis and Acton 
Bell. The critic did not know that those writers had 
passed from time and life. I have read no review since 
either of my sisters died which I could have wished them 
to read — none even which did not render the thought of 
their departure more tolerable to me. To hear myself 
praised beyond them was cruel, to hear qualities ascribed 
to them so strangely the reverse of their real characteristics 
was scarce supportable. It is sad even now; but they are 
so remote from earth, so safe from its turmoils, I can bear 
it better. 

But on one point do I now feel vulnerable: I should 
grieve to see my father's peace of mind perturbed on my 
account; for which reason I keep my author's existence 
as much as possible out of his way. I have always given 
him a carefully diluted and modified account of the success 
of Jane Eyre — just what would please without startling 
him. The book is not mentioned between us once a 
month. The Quarterly I kept to myself — it would have- 
worried papa. To that same Quarterly I must speak in 

319 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

the introduction to my present work — just one little word. 
You once, I remember, said that review was written by a 
lady— Miss Rigby. Are you sure of this ? 

Give no hint of my intention of discoursing a little with 
the Quarterly, It would look too important to speak of it 
beforehand. All plans are best conceived and executed 
without noise. — Believe me, yours sincerely, C. B. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

August 2istj 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I can only write very briefly at present 
— ^first to thank you for your interesting letter and the 
graphic description it contained of the neighbourhood 
where you have been staying, and then to decide about 
the title of the book. 

If I remember rightly, my Cornhill critics objected to 
Hollow^s Mill, nor do I now find it appropriate. It might 
rather be called Fieldhead, though I think Shirley would 
perhaps be the best title. Shirley, I fancy, has turned out 
the most prominent and peculiar character in the work. 

Cornhill may decide between Fieldhead and Shirley. — 
Believe me, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

The famous Quarterly Review article by Miss Rigby, 
afterwards Lady Eastlake,^ appeared in December 1848, 
under the title of " Vanity Fair, Jane Eyre, and Gover- 
nesses.*' It was a review of two novels and a treatise 
on schools, and but for one or two offensive passages 
might have been pronounced fairly complimentary. To 
have coupled Jane Eyre with Thackeray's great book, 
at a time when Thackeray had already reached to heroic 
proportions in the literary world, w^as in itself a compli- 
ment. It is small wonder that the speculation was 
.hazarded that J. G. Lockhart, the editor of the Quarterly, 
had himself supplied the venom. He could display it on 
occasion. It is quite clear now, however, that that was 
not the case. Miss Rigby was the reviewer who thought 
it within a critic's province to suggest that the writer 
might be a w^oman " who had forfeited the society of her 
sex." Lockhart must have read the review hastily, as 

^ Lady Eastlake died in 1893. 
320 



Literary Ambitions 

editors will on occasion. He writes to his contributor 
on November 13, 1848, before the article had appeared: — 

*' About three years ago I received a small volume of 
' Poems by Currer, Acton, and Ellis Bell/ and a queer 
little note by Currer, who said the book had been pub- 
lished a year, and just t\vo copies sold, so they were to 
bum the rest, but distributed a few copies, mine being 
one. I find what seems rather a fair review of that tiny 
tome in the Spectator of this week ; pray look at it. 

** I think the poems of Currer much better than those 
of Acton and Ellis, and believe his novel is vastly better 
than those which they have more recently put forth. 

'* I know nothing of the ^vriters, but the common 
rumour is that they are brothers of the weaving order 
in some Lancashire town. At first it was generally said 
Currer was a lady, and Mayfair circumstantialised by 
making her the chere amie of Mr. Thackeray. But your 
skill in ' dress ' settles the question of sex. I think, 
however, some woman must have assisted in the school 
scenes of Jane Eyre, which have a striking air of truthful- 
ness to me — an ignoramus, I allow, on such points. 

" I should say you might as well glance at the novels 
by Acton and Ellis Bell — Wuthering Heights is one of 
them. If you have any friend about Manchester, it 
would, I suppose, be easy to learn accurately as to the 
position of these men." 1 

This was written in November, and it was not till 
December that the article appeared. Apart from the 
offensive imputations upon the morals of the author of 
Jane Eyre, which reduces itself to smart impertinence 
when it is understood that ]\Iiss Rigby fully believed 
that the author was a man, the review is not without its 
compensations for a new writer. The '' equal popu- 
larity " of Jane Eyre and Vanity Fair is referred to. '* A 
very remarkable book," the reviewer continues; *' we 
have no remembrance of another containing such un- 
doubted power with such horrid taste." There is droll 
irony, when Charlotte Bronte's strong conservative 
sentiments and church environment are considered, in 
the following: — 

'* We do not hesitate to say that the tone of mind and 
thought which has overthrown authority, and violated 

^ Letters aftd Journals of Lady Eastlake, edited b}^ her nephew, 
Charles Eastlake Smith, vol. i. pp. 221, 222 (John Murray). 

321 L 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

every code, human and divine, abroad, and fostered 
chartism and rebellion at home, is the same which has 
also written Jane Eyre,'* 

In another passage Miss Rigby, musing upon the 
masculinity of the author, finally clinches her arguments 
by proofs of a kind. 

*' No woman trusses game, and garnishes dessert dishes 
with the same hands, or talks of so doing in the same 
breath. Above all, no woman attires another in such 
fancy dresses as Jane's ladies assume. Miss Ingram 
coming down irresistible in a morning robe of sky>blue 
crape, a gauze azure scarf twisted in her hair!! No 
lady, we understand, when suddenly roused in the night, 
would think of hurrying on * a frock.' They have 
garments more convenient for such occasions, and more 
becoming too.'* 

Wuthering Heights is described as " too odiously and 
abominably pagan to be palatable to the most vitiated 
class of English readers." This no doubt was Miss 
Rigby 's interpolation in the proofs in reply to her editor's 
suggestion that she should ** glance at the novels by 
Acton and Ellis Bell." It is a little difficult to under- 
stand the Quarterly editor's method, or, indeed, the letter 
to Miss Rigby which I have quoted, as he had formed 
a very different estimate of the book many months be- 
fore. '' I have finished the adventures of Miss Jane 
Eyre," he writes to Mrs. Hope (Dec. 29th, 1847), *' and 
think her far the cleverest that has written since Austen 
and Edgeworth were in their prime, worth fifty TroUopes 
and Martineaus rolled into one counterpane, with fifty 
Dickenses and Bulwers to keep them company — but 
rather a brazen Miss." 1 

When the Quarterly Review appeared, Charlotte 
Bronte, as we have seen, was in dire domestic distress, 
and it was not till many months later, when a new 
edition of Jane Eyre was projected, that she discussed 
with her publishers the desirability of an effective reply, 
which was not however to disclose her sex and environ- 
ment. A first preface called " A Word to the Quarterly " 
was cancelled, and after some debate, the preface which 
we now have took its place. The " book " is of course 
Shirley, 

^ Life of /. G. Lockhart, by Andrew Lang. Published by John 
Nimmo. Mr. Lang has courteously permitted me to copy this letter 
from his proof-sheets. 

322 



Literary Ambitiom 



TO W. S. WILLIMIS 

August 2gthy 1849. 

Dear Sir^ — ^The book is now finished (thank God) and 
ready for Mr. Taylor^ but I have not yet heard from him. 
I thought I should be able to tell whether it was equal to 
Jane Eyre or not, but I find I cannot — it may be better, it 
may be worse. I shall be curious to hear your opinion, my 
own is of no value. I send the Preface or " Word to the 
Quarterly " for your perusal. 

Whatever now becomes of the work, the occupation of 
writing it has been a boon to me. It took me out of dark 
and desolate reality into an unreal but happier region. 
The worst of it is, my eyes are grown somewhat weak and 
my head somewhat weary and prone to ache with close 
work. You can write nothing of value unless you give 
yourself wholly to the theme, and when you so give your- 
self, you lose appetite and sleep — it cannot be helped. 

At what time does Mr. Smith intend to bring the book 
out ? It is his now. I hand it and all the trouble and care 
and anxiety over to him — a good riddance, only I wish he 
fairly had it. — ^Yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

August ^istj 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I cannot change my preface. I can 
shed no tears before the public, nor utter any groan in 
the public ear. The deep, real tragedy of our domestic 
experience is yet terribly fresh in my mind and memory. 
It is not a time to be talked about to the indifferent; it 
is not a topic for allusion to in print. 

No righteous indignation can I lavish on the Quarterly. 
I can condescend but to touch it with the lightest satire. 
Believe me, my dear sir, '^ C. Bronte " must not here 
appear; what she feels or has felt is not the question — it 
is " Currer Bell " who was insulted — he must reply. Let 
Mr. Smith fearlessly print the preface I have sent — let him 
depend upon me this once; even if I prove a broken reed, 

323 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

his fall cannot be dangerous: a preface is a short dis- 
tance, it is not three volumes. 

I have always felt certain that it is a deplorable error in 
an author to assume the tragic tone in addressing the 
public about his own wrongs or griefs. What does the 
public care about him as an individual? His wrongs are 
its sport; his griefs would be a bore. What we deeply 
feel is our ow^n — we must keep it to ourselves. Ellis and 
Acton Bell were, for me, Emily and Anne; my sisters — 
to me intimately near, tenderly dear — to the public they 
Vieie nothing — worse than nothing — being speculated 
upon, misunderstood, misrepresented. If I live, the hour 
may come when the spirit will move me to speak of them, 
but it is not come yet. — I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

September 17, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — Your letter gave me great pleasure. An 
author who has showed his book to none, held no con- 
sultation about plan, subject, characters, or incidents, 
asked and had no opinion from one living being, but 
fabricated it darkly in the silent workshop of his own 
brain — such an author awaits with a singular feeling the 
report of the first impression produced by his creation in 
a quarter where he places confidence, and truly glad he is 
when that report proves favourable. 

Do you think this book will tend to strengthen the idea 
that Currer Bell is a w^oman, or will it favour a contrary 
opinion ? 

I return the proof-sheets. Will they print all the 
French phrases in italics? I hope not, it makes them 
look somehow obtrusively conspicuous. 

I have no time to add more lest I should be too late for 
the post. — Yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

September loth, 1849. 
Dear Sir, — Your advice is very good, and yet I cannot 

324 



Literary Ambitions 

follow it: I cannot alter now. It sounds absurd^ but 
so it is. 

The circumstances of Shirley's being nervous on such a 
matter may appear incongruous because I fear it is not well 
managed; otherwise it is perfectly natural. In such 
minds^ such odd points^ such queer unexpected incon- 
sistent weaknesses are found — perhaps there never was 
an ardent poetic temperament^ however healthy, quite 
without them; but they never communicate them unless 
forced, they have a suspicion that the terror is absurd, 
and keep it hidden. Still the thing is badly managed^ 
and I bend my head and expect in resignation what, here^ 
I know I deserve — the lash of criticism. I shall wince 
when it falls, but not scream. 

You are right about Goethe, you are very right — he is 
clear, deep, but very cold. I acknowledge him great, but 
cannot feel him genial. 

You mention the literary coteries. To speak the truths 
I recoil from them, though I long to see some of the truly 
great literary characters. However this is not to be yet 
— I cannot sacrifice my incognito. And let me be content 
with seclusion — it has its advantages. In general, indeed, 
I am tranquil, it is only now and then that a struggle 
disturbs me — that I wish for a wider world than Haworth. 
When it is past. Reason tells me how unfit I am for any- 
thing very different. — Yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

September isth, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — ^You observed that the French of Shirley 
might be cavilled at. There is a long paragraph written 
in the French language in that chapter entitled " Le cheval 
dompte.'' I forget the number. I fear it will have a 
pretentious air. If you deem it advisable, and will return 
the chapter, I will efface, and substitute something else in 
English. — Yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

2>^S 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO JAMES TAYLOR, Cornhill 

September 20th, 1849. 

My dear SiR; — It is time I answered the note which I 
received from you last Thursday; I should have replied 
to it before had I not been kept more than usually engaged 
by the presence of a clergyman in the house, and the in- 
disposition of one of our servants. 

As you may conjecture, it cheered and pleased me much 
to learn that the opinion of my friends in Cornhill was 
favourable to Shirley — that, on the whole, it was con- 
sidered no falling off from Jane Eyre. I am trying, how- 
ever, not to encourage too sanguine an expectation of a 
favourable reception by the public: the seeds of prejudice 
have been sown, and I suppose the produce will have to be 
reaped — but we shall see. 

I read with pleasure Friends in Council j and with very 
great pleasure The Thoughts and Opinions of a Statesman, 
It is the record of what may with truth be termed a 
beautiful mind — serene, harmonious, elevated, and pure; 
it bespeaks, too, a heart full of kindness and sympathy. 
I like it much. 

Papa has been pretty well during the past week, he begs 
to join me in kind remembrances to yourself. — Believe me, 
my dear sir, yours very sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

September 2gth, 1849. 

Dear Sir, — I have made the alteration; but I have 
made it to please Cornhill, not the public nor the critics. 

I am sorry to say Newby does know my real name. I 
wish he did not, but that cannot be helped. Meantime, 
though I earnestly wish to preserve my incognito, I live 
under no slavish fear of discovery. I am ashamed of 
nothing I have written — not a line. 

The envelope containing the first proof and your letter 
had been received open at the General Post Office and 

326 



Literary Ambitions 

resealed there. Perhaps it was accident^ but I think it 
better to inform you of the circummstance. — Yours 
sincerely^ C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

October isi, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I am chagrined about the envelope being 
opened : I see it is the work of prying curiosity, and now it 
would be useless to make a stir — what mischief is to be 
apprehended is already done. It was not done at Ha worth. 
I know the people of the post-office there, and am sure 
they would not venture on such a step; besides, the 
Haworth people have long since set me down as bookish 
and quiet, and trouble themselves no farther about me. 
But the gossiping inquisitiveness of small towns is rife at 
Keighley; there they are sadly puzzled to guess why I 
never visit, encourage no overtures to acquaintance, and 
always stay at home. Those packets passing backwards 
and forw^ards by the post have doubtless aggravated their 
curiosity. Well, I am sorry, but I shall try to wait 
patiently and not vex myself too much, come what will. 

I am glad you like the English substitute for the French 
devoir. 

The parcel of books came on Saturday. I write to Mr. 
Taylor by this post to acknowledge its receipt. His 
opinion of Shirley seems in a great measure to coincide 
with yours, only he expresses it rather differently to you, 
owing to the difference in your casts of mind. Are you 
not different on some points ? — Yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIMIS 

November ist^ 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I reached home yesterday, and found 
your letter and one from Mr. Lewes, and one from the 
Peace Congress Committee, awaiting my arrival. The 
last document it is now too late to answer, for it was an 
invitation to Currer Bell to appear on the platform at their 

327 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

meeting at Exeter Hall last Tuesday ! A wonderful figure 
Mr. Currer Bell would have cut under such circumstances ! 
Should the " Peace Congress '' chance to read Shirley they 
will wash their hands of its author. 

I am glad to hear that Mr. Thackeray is better, but I 
did not knovs^ he had been seriously ill, I thought it was 
only a literary indisposition. You must tell me what he 
thinks of Shirley if he gives you any opinion on the subject. 

I am also glad to hear that Mr. Smith is pleased with 
the commercial prospects of the work. I try not to be 
anxious about its Uterary fate; and if I cannot be quite 
stoical, I think I am still tolerably resigned. 

Mr. Lewes does not like the opening chapter, wherein 
he resembles you. 

I have permitted myself the treat of spending the last 
week with my friend Ellen. Her residence is in a far more 
populous and stirring neighbourhood than this. When- 
ever I go there I am unavoidably forced into society — 
clerical society chiefly. 

During my late visit I have too often had reason, some- 
times in a pleasant, sometimes in a pointful form, to fear 
that I no longer walk invisible. Jane Eyre, it appears, 
has been read all over the district — a fact of which I never 
dreamt — a circumstance of which the possibihty never 
occurred to me. I met sometimes with new deference, 
with augmented kindness: old schoolfellows and old 
teachers, too, greeted me with generous warmth. And 
again, ecclesiastical brows lowered thunder at me. When 
I confronted one or two large-made priests, I longed for the 
battle to come on. I wish they would speak out plainly. 
You must not understand that my schoolfellows and 
teachers were of the Clergy Daughters School — in fact, I 
was never there but for one little year as a very little girl. 
I am certain I have long been forgotten ; though for myself 
I remember all and everything clearly : early impressions 
are ineffaceable. 

I have just received the Daily News. Let me speak the 
truth — when I read it my heart sickened over it. It is 
not a good review, it is unutterably false. If Shirley 

328 



Literary Ambitions 

strikes all readers as it has struck that one^ but — I shall 
not say what follows. 

On the whole I am glad a decidedly bad notice has come 
first — a notice whose inexpressible ignorance first stuns and 
then stirs me. Are there no such men as the Helstones 
and Yorkes ? 

Yes^ there are. 

Is the first chapter disgusting or vulgar ? 

// is not, it is real. 

As for the praise of such a critic^ I find it silly and 
nauseous^ and I scorn it. 

Were my sisters now ahve they and I would laugh over 
this notice : but they sleep, they will wake no more for me, 
and I am a fool to be so moved by what is not worth a 
sigh. — BeUeve me, yours sincerely, C. B. 

You must spare me if I seem hasty, I fear I really am 
not so firm as I used to be, nor so patient. Whenever any 
shock comes, I feel that almost all supports have been 
withdrawn. 

TO W. S. WILLIA^IS 

November ^th, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I did not receive the parcel of copies till 
Saturday evening. Everything sent by Bradford is long 
in reaching me. It is, I think, better to direct : Keighley. 
I was very much pleased with the appearance and getting 
up of the book; it looks well. 

I have got the Examiner and your letter. You are very 
good not to be angry with me, for I wTOte in indignation 
and grief. The critic of the Daily News struck me as to 
the last degree incompetent, ignorant, and flippant. A 
thrill of mutiny went all through me when I read his small 
effusion. To be judged by such a one revolted me. I 
ought, however, to have controlled myself, and I did not. 
I am willing to be judged by the Examiner — I like the 
Examiner, Fonblanque has power, he has discernment — 
I bend to his censorship, I am grateful for his praise; his 
blame deserves consideration; when he approves, I permit 

329 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

myself a moderate emotion of pride. Am I wrong in 
supposing that critique to be written by Mr. Fonblanque? 
But whether it is by him or Forster, I am thankful. 

In reading the critiques of the other papers — when I get 
them — I will try to follow your advice and preserve my 
equanimity. But I cannot be sure of doing this^ for I had 
good resolutions and intentions before^ and^ you see, I failed. 

You ask me if I am related to Nelson. No, I never 
heard that I was. The rumour must have originated in 
our name resembling his title. I wonder who that former 
schoolfellow of mine was that told Mr. Lewes, or how she 
had been enabled to identify Currer Bell with C. Bronte. 
She could not have been a Cowan Bridge girl, none of 
them can possibly remember me. They might remember 
my eldest sister, Maria; her prematurely-developed and 
remarkable intellect, as well as the mildness, wisdom, and 
fortitude of her character might have left an indelible 
impression on some observant mind amongst her com- 
panions. My second sister, Ehzabeth, too, may perhaps 
be remembered, but I cannot conceive that I left a trace 
behind me. My career was a very quiet one. I was 
plodding and industrious, perhaps I was very grave, for 
I suffered to see my sisters perishing, but I think I was 
remarkable for nothing. — Believe me, my dear sir, yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

November i^th, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I have received since I wrote last the 
Globe, Standard of Freedom, Britannia, Economist, and 
Weekly Chronicle, 

How is Shirley getting on, and what is now the general 
feeling respecting the work? 

As far as I can judge from the tone of the newspapers, it 
seems that those who were most charmed with Jane Eyre 
are the least pleased with Shirley ; they are disappointed 
at not finding the same excitement, interest, stimulus; 
while those who spoke disparagingly of Jane Eyre like 

330 



Literary Ambitions 

Shirley a little better than her predecessor. I suppose its 
dr}^er matter suits their drytr minds. But I feel that the 
fiat for which I wait does not depend on newspapers, 
except, indeed, such new^spapers as the Examiner, The 
monthlies and quarterlies will pronounce it, I suppose. 
Mere novel-readers, it is evident, think Shirley something 
of a failure. Still, the majority of the notices have on the 
whole been favourable. That in the Standard of Freedom 
was very kindly expressed; and coming from a dissenter, 
William Howitt, I wonder thereat. 

Are you satisfied at Cornhill, or the contrary? I have 
read part of The Caxtons, and, when I have finished, will 
tell you what I think of it ; meantime, I should very much 
like to hear your opinion. Perhaps I shall keep mine till 
I see you, whenever that may be. 

I am trying by degrees to inure myself to the thought of 
some day stepping over to Keighley, taking the train to 
Leeds, thence to London, and once more venturing to set 
foot in the strange, busy whirl of the Strand and Cornhill, 
I want to talk to you a little and to hear by w^ord of mouth 
how matters are progressing. Whenever I come, I must 
come quietly and but for a short time — I should be un- 
happy to leave papa longer than a fortnight. — Believe me, 
yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

November 22nd , 1849. 

My dear Sir, — If it is discouraging to an author to see 
his work mouthed over by the entirely ignorant and in- 
competent, it is equally reviving to hear what you have 
written discussed and analysed by a critic who is master 
of his subject — by one whose heart feels, whose powers 
grasp the matter he undertakes to handle. Such refresh- 
ment Eugene For9ade has given me. Were I to see that 
man, my impulse would be to say, " Monsieur, you know 
me, I shall deem it an honour to know you.'' 

I do not find that For9ade detects any coarseness in the 
work — it is for the smaller critics to find that out. The 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

master in the art — the subtle-thoughted, keen-eyed, 
quick-feeling Frenchman, knows the true nature of the 
ingredients which went to the composition of the creation 
he analyses — he knows the true nature of things, and he 
gives them their right name. 

Yours of yesterday has just reached me. Let me, in the 
first place, express my sincere sympathy with your anxiety 
on Mrs. Williams's account. I know how sad it is when 
pain and suffering attack those we love, w^hen that mourn- 
ful guest sickness comes and takes a place in the house- 
hold circle. That the shadow may soon leave your home 
is my earnest hope. 

Thank you for Sir J. Herschel's note. I am happy to 
hear Mr. Taylor is convalescent. It may, perhaps, be some 
weeks yet before his hand is well, but that his general 
health is in the way of re-establishment is a matter of 
thankfulness. 

One of the letters you sent to-day addressed " Currer 
Bell " has almost startled me. The writer first describes 
his family, and then proceeds to give a particular account 
of himself in colours the most candid, if not, to my ideas, 
the most attractive. He runs on in a strain of wild en- 
thusiasm about Shirley, and concludes by announcing a 
fixed, deliberate resolution to institute a search after 
Currer Bell, and sooner or later to find him out. There 
is power in the letter — talent; it is at times eloquently 
expressed. The writer somewhat boastfully intimates 
that he is acknowledged the possessor of high intellectual 
attainments, but, if I mistake not, he betrays a temper 
to be shunned, habits to be mistrusted. While laying 
claim to the character of being affectionate, warmhearted, 
and adhesive, there is but a single member of his own 
family of whom he speaks with kindness. He confesses 
himself indolent and wilful, but asserts that he is studious 
and, to some influences, docile. This letter would have 
struck me no more than the others rather like it have done 
but for its rash power, and the disagreeable resolve it 
announces to seek and find Currer Bell. It almost makes 
me feel like a wizard who has raised a spirit he may find it 

332 



Literary Ambitions 

difficult to lay. But I shall not think about it. This sort 
of fervour often foams itself away in words. 

Trusting that the serenity of your home is by this time 
restored with your wife's healthy — I am, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

February iSthj 1850. 

Dear Nell, — ^Yesterday, just after dinner, I heard a 
loud bustling voice in the kitchen demanding to see Mr. 
Bronte. Somebody was shown into the parlour. Shortly 
after, wine was rung for. '' Who is it, Martha? " I asked. 
" Some mak of a tradesman," said she. *^ He's not a 
gentleman, I'm sure." The personage stayed about an 
hour, talking in a loud vulgar key all the time. At tea- 
time I asked papa who it was. '' Why," said he, " no 

other than the vicar of B ! " ^ Papa had invited him 

to take some refreshment, but the creature had ordered 
his dinner at the Black Bull, and was quite urgent with 
papa to go down there and join him, offering by way of 
inducement a bottle, or, if papa liked, *' two or three 
bottles of the best wine Haworth could afford ! " He said 
he was come from Bradford just to look at the place, and 
reckoned to be in raptures with the wild scenery! He 
warmly pressed papa to come and see him, and to bring 
his daughter with him ! ! ! Does he know anything about 
the books, do you think; he made no allusion to them^ 
I did not see him, not so much as the tail of his coat« 
Martha said he looked no more like a parson than she did. 
Papa described him as rather shabby-looking, but said he 
was wondrous cordial and friendly. Papa, in his usual 
fashion, put him through a regular catechism of questions: 
what his living was worth, etc., etc. In answer to in- 
quiries respecting his age he affirmed himself to be thirty- 
seven — is not this a he ? He must be more. Papa asked 
him if he were married. He said no, he had no thoughts 
of being married, he did not like the trouble of a wife. He 
^ Name of place is erased in original. 
333 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

described himself as '* living in style, and keeping a very 
hospitable house." 

Dear Nell, I have written you a long letter: write me a 
long one in answer. C. B. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

April yd, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — I have received the Dublin Review, and 
your letter inclosing the Indian Notices. I hope these 
reviews will do good; they are all favourable, and one of 
them (the Dublin) is very able. I have read no critique 
so discriminating since that in the Revue des deux Mondes, 
It offers a curious contrast to Lewes's in the Edinburgh, 
where forced praise, given by jerks, and obviously without 
real and cordial liking, and censure, crude, conceited, and 
ignorant, were mixed in random lumps — forming a very 
loose and inconsistent whole. 

Are you aware whether there are any grounds for that 
conjecture in the Bengal Hurkaru, that the critique in the 
Times was from the pen of Mr. Thackeray? I should 
much like to know this. If such were the case (and I feel 
as if it were by no means impossible), the circumstance 
would open a most curious and novel glimpse of a very 
peculiar disposition. Do you think it likely to be true? 

The account you give of Mrs. Williams's health is not 
cheering, but I should think her indisposition is partly 
owing to the variable weather; at least, if you have had 
the same keen frost and cold east winds in London, from 
which we have lately suffered in Yorkshire. I trust the 
milder temperature we are now enjoying may quickly 
confirm her convalescence. With kind regards to Mrs. 
Williams, — Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAJVIS 

April 2^th, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — I cannot let the post go without thank- 
ing Mr. Smith through you for the kind reply to Green- 

334 



Literary Ambitions 

wood's application; and^, I am sure^ both you and he 
would feel true pleasure could you see the delight and 
hope with which these liberal terms have inspired a good 
intelligent though poor man. He thinks he now sees a 
prospect of getting his livelihood by a method which will 
suit him better than wool-combing work has hitherto 
done^ exercising more of his faculties and sparing his 
health. He will do his best I am sure^ to extend the 
sale of the cheap edition of Jayie Eyre; and whatever 
twinges I may still feel at the thought of that work being 
in the possession of all the worthy folk of Haworth and 
Keighley, such scruples are more than counterbalanced by 
the attendant good; — I mean^ by the assistance it will 
give a man w^ho deserves assistance. I wish he could 
permanently establish a little bookselHng business in 
Haworth: it would benefit the place as well as himself. 

Thank you for the Leader^ which I read with pleasure. 
The notice of Newman's work in a late number was ver}^ 
good. — Believe me^ my dear sir^ in haste^ yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLT\!^IS 

May 6th, 1850. 

My dear Sir^ — I have received the copy of Jane Eyre, 
To me the printing and paper seem vers^ tolerable. Will 
not the public in general be of the same opinion? And 
are you not making yourselves causelessly uneasy on the 
subject? 

I imagine few will discover the defects of t}^ography 
unless they are pointed out. There are, no doubt, tech- 
nical faults and perfections in the art of printing to which 
printers and publishers ascribe a greater importance than 
the majority of readers. 

I will mention Mr. Smith's proposal respecting the 
cheap pubhcations to Greenwood. I believe him to be 
a man on whom encouragement is not likely to be throwTi 
away, and who, if fortune should not prove quite adverse, 
will contrive to effect something by dint of intelligence 
and perseverance. 

335 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

I am sorry to say my father has been far from well 
lately — the cold weather has tried him severely; and^ 
till I see him better, my intended journey to town must 
be deferred. With sincere regards to yourself and other 
Comhill friends, — I am, my dear sir, yours faithfully, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

September Kth. 1850. 

My dear Sir, — I trust your suggestion for Miss Kav- 
anagh's benefit will have all success. It seems to me 
truly felicitous and excellent, and, I doubt not, she will 
think so too. The last class of female character will be 
difficult to manage: there will be nice points in it — yet, 
well-managed, both an attractive and instructive book 
might result therefrom. One thing may be depended 
upon in the execution of this plan. Miss Kavanagh will 
commit no error, either of taste, judgment, or principle; 
and even when she deals with the feelings, I would rather 
follow the calm course of her quiet pen than the flourishes 
of a more redundant one where there is not strength to 
restrain as well as ardour to impel. 

I fear I seemed to you to speak coolly of the beauty of 
the Lake scenery. The truth is, it was, as scenery^ 
exquisite — far beyond anything I saw in Scotland; but 
it did not give me half so much pleasure, because I saw it 
under less congenial auspices. Mr. Smith and Sir J. K. 
Shuttleworth are two different people with whom to 
travel. I need say nothing of the former — you know him. 
The latter offers me his friendship, and I do my best to be 
grateful for the gift; but his is a nature with which it is 
difficult to assimilate — and where there is no assimilation^ 
how can there be real regard? Nine parts out of ten in 
him are utilitarian — the tenth is artistic. This tithe of 
his nature seems to me at war with all the rest — it is just 
enough to incline him restlessly towards the artist class, 
and far too little to make him one of them. The conse- 
quent inability to do things which he admires, embitters 
him I think — it makes him doubt perfections and dweJl 



Literary Ambitions 

on faults. Then his notice or presence scarcely tend to 
set one at ease or make one happy: he is worldly and 
formal. But I must stop — have I already said too much? 
I think not^ for you will feel it is said in confidence and 
will not repeat it. 

The article in the Palladium is indeed such as to atone 
for a hundred unfavourable or imbecile reviews. I have 
expressed what I think of it to Mr. Taylor^ who kindly 
wrote me a letter on the subject. I thank you also for 
the newspaper notices, and for some you sent me a few 
weeks ago. 

I should much like to carry out your suggestions re- 
specting a reprint of Withering Heights and Agnes Grey in 
one volume^ mth a prefatory and explanatory notice of 
the authors; but the question occurs, would Newby 
claim it? I could not bear to commit it to any other 
hands than those of Mr. Smith. Wild/ell Hall, it hardly 
appears to me desirable to preserve. The choice of sub- 
ject in that work is a mistake: it was too little consonant 
with the character, tastes, and ideas of the gentle, retiring, 
inexperienced writer. She wrote it under a strange, 
conscientious, half-ascetic notion of accomplishing a 
painful penance and a severe duty. Blameless in deed 
and almost in thought, there was from her very childhood 
a tinge of religious melancholy in her mind. This I ever 
suspected, and I have found amongst her papers mourn- 
ful proofs that such was the case. As to additional com- 
positions, I think there would be none, as I would not 
offer a line to the publication of which my sisters them- 
selves would have objected. 

I must conclude or I shall be too late for the post. — 
Beheve me, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

September i^th, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — ^Mr. Newby undertook first to print 350 
copies of Wntliering Heights, but he aftenvards declared 
he had only printed 250. I doubt whether he could be 

337 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

induced to return the £50 without a good deal of trouble 
— much more than I should feel justified in delegating to 
Mr. Smith. For my own part^ the conclusion I drew 
from the whole of Mr. Newby's conduct to my sisters was 
that he is a man with whom it is desirable to have little 
to do. I think he must be needy as well as tricky — and 
if he is, one would not distress him, even for one's rights. 

If Mr. Smith thinks right to reprint Wuthering Heights 
and Agnes Grey, I would prepare a preface comprising a 
brief and simple notice of the authors, such as might set at 
rest all erroneous conjectures respecting their identity — 
and adding a few poetical remains of each. 

In case this arrangement is approved, you will kindly 
let me know, and I will commence the task (a sad, but, I 
believe, a necessary one), and send it when finished. — I 
am, my dear sir, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

October 16th, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — On the whole it is perhaps as well that 
the last paragraph of the Preface should be omitted, for I 
believe it was not expressed with the best grace in the 
world. You must not, however, apologise for your sugges- 
tion — it was kindly meant and, beheve me, kindly taken; 
it was not you I misunderstood — not for a moment, I never 
misunderstand you — I was thinking of the critics and the 
public, who are always crying for a moral like the Pharisees 
for a sign. Does this assurance quite satisfy you ? 

I forgot to say that I had already heard, first from Miss 
Martineau, and subsequently through an intimate friend 
of Sydney Yendys (whose real name is Mr. Dobell) that it 
was to the author of the Roman we are indebted for that 
eloquent article in the Palladmm, I am glad you are 
going to send his poem, for I much wished to see it. 

May I trouble you to look at a sentence in the Preface 
which I have erased, because on reading it over I was not 
quite sure about the scientific correctness of the expres- 
sions used. Metal, I know, will burn in vivid-coloured 

338 



Literary Ambitions 

flame^ exposed to galvanic action^ but whether it is con- 
sumed^ I am not sure. Perhaps you or Mr. Taylor can 
tell me whether there is any blunder in the term employed 
— if not^ it might stand. — I am^ yours sincerely ^ 

C. Bronte. 

Miss Bronte w^ould seem to have corresponded with 
Mr. George Smith, and not wdth Mr. Williams, over her 
third novel, Villette, and that correspondence is to be 
found in Mrs. Gaskell's biography.^ 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

February ist, 185 1. 

My dear SiR; — I cannot lose any time in telling you 
that your letter^ after all^ gave me heart-felt satisfaction^ 
and such a feeling of relief as it would be difficult to express 
in words. The fact is^ w^hat goads and tortures me is not 
any anxiety of my own to publish another book^ to have 
my name before the public, to get cash, etc., but a haunt- 
ing fear that my dilatoriness disappoints others. Now the 
*' others " whose wish on the subject I really care for, 
reduces itself to my father and Cornhill, and since Cornhill 
ungrudgingly counsels me to take my own time, I think 
I can pacify such impatience as my dear father naturally 
feels. Indeed, your kind and friendly letter will greatly 
help me. 

Since wTiting the above, I have read your letter to papa. 
Your arguments had weight with him: he approves, and 
I am content. I now only regret the necessity of dis- 
appointing the Palladium y but that cannot be helped. — 
Good-bye, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Tuesday Morning, 1853. 

Dear Ellen, — The rather dark view you seem inclined 

to take of the general opinion about Villeite surprises me 

^ Haworth edition. With letters and notes edited by the author 
of Charlotte Bronte and Her Circle. 

339 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

the less^ dear Nell^ as only the more unfavourable reviews 
seem to have come in your way. Some reports reach me 
of a different tendency; but no matter, time will shew. 
As to the character of Lucy Snow^ my intention from the 
first was that she should not occupy the pedestal to which 
Jane Eyre was raised by some injudicious admirers. She 
is where I meant her to be, and where no charge of self- 
laudation can touch her. 

I cannot accept your kind invitation. I must be at 
home at Easter, on two or three accounts connected with 
sermons to be preached, parsons to be entertained, 
Mechanics' Institute meetings and tea-drinkings to be 
solemnised, and ere long I have promised to go and see 
Mrs. Gaskell; but till this wintry weather is passed, I 
would rather eschew visiting anywhere. I trust that bad 
cold of yours is quite well, and that you will take good care 
of yourself in future. That night work is always perilous. 
— Yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 



TO MISS WOOLER 

Ha WORTH, April i^^th, 1853. 

My dear Miss Wooler, — Your last kind letter ought to 
have been answered long since, and would have been, did 
I find it practicable to proportion the promptitude of the 
response to the value I place upon my correspondents 
and their communications. You will easily understand, 
however, that the contrary rule often holds good, and that 
the epistle which importunes often tajces precedence of 
that which interests. 

My publishers express entire satisfaction with the 
reception which has been accorded to Villette^ and indeed 
the majority of the reviews has been favourable enough; 
you will be aware, however, that there is a minority, small 
in number but influential in character, which views the 
work with no favourable eye. Currer Bell's remarks on 
Romanism have drawn down on him the condign dis- 
pleasure of the High Church party, which displeasure 

340 



Literary Ambitions 

has been unequivocally expressed through their principal 
organs — the Guardian, the English Churchman, and the 
Christian Remembrancer. I can well understand that some 
of the charges launched against me by those publications 
will tell heavily to my prejudice in the minds of most 
readers — but this must be borne; and for my part^ I can 
suffer no accusation to oppress me much which is not 
supported by the inward evidence of conscience and reason. 

" Extremes meet/' says the proverb; in proof whereof I 
would mention that Miss Martineau finds with Villette 
nearly the same fault as the Puseyites. She accuses me 
with attacking popery '' with virulence/' of going out of 
my way to assault it '' passionately." In other respects 
she has shown with reference to the work a spirit so 
strangely and unexpectedly acrimonious^ that I have 
gathered courage to tell her that the gulf of mutual 
difference between her and me is so wide and deep^ the 
bridge of union so slight and uncertain^ I have come to 
the conclusion that frequent intercourse would be most 
perilous and unadvisable^ and have begged to adjourn 
sine die my long projected visit to her. Of course she 
is now very angry^ and I know her bitterness will not be 
short-lived — but it cannot be helped. 

Two or three weeks since I received a long and kind 
letter from Mr. White^ which I answered a short time ago. 
I believe Mr. White thinks me a much hotter advocate 
for change and what is called " political progress " than 
I am. How^ever^ in my reply^ I did not touch on these 
subjects. He intimated a wish to publish some of his 
ow^n MSS. I fear he would hardly like the somewhat 
dissuasive tendency of my answer; but really, in these 
days of headlong competition, it is a great risk to publish. 
If all be w^ell, I purpose going to Manchester next week to 
spend a few days with Mrs. Gaskell. Ellen's visit to 
Yarmouth seems for the present given up; and really 
all things considered, I think the circumstance is scarcely 
to be regretted. 

Do you not think, my dear Miss Wooler, that you could 
come to Haw^orth before you go to the coast? I am afraid 

341 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

that when you once get settled at the sea-side your stay 
will not be brief. I must repeat that a visit from you would 
be anticipated with pleasure^ not only by me, but by 
every inmate of Haworth Parsonage. Papa has given 
me a general commission to send his respects to you when- 
ever I write — accept them, therefore, and — Believe me, 
yours affectionately and sincerely, C. Bronte. 



342 



CHAPTER XIV 

WILLIAM SMITH WILLIAMS 

In picturing the circle which surrounded Charlotte 
Bronte through her brief career, it is of the utmost 
importance that a word of recognition should be given, 
and that in no half-hearted manner, to !Mr. William 
Smith Williams, who, in her later years, was Charlotte 
Bronte's most intimate correspondent. The letters to 
Mr. Williams are far and away the best that Charlotte 
wrote, at least of those which have been preser\^ed. 
They are full of Hterary enthusiasm and of intellectual 
interest. They show Charlotte Bronte's sound judg- 
ment and good heart more efiectually than any other 
material which has been placed at the disposal of bio- 
graphers. They are an honour both to \\T:iter and receiver, 
and, in fact, reflect the mind of the one as much as the 
mind of the other. Charlotte has emphasised the fact 
that she adapted herself to her correspondents, and in 
her letters to Mr. Williams we have her at her ver^^ best. 
Mr. Williams occupied for many years the post of 
" reader " in the firm of Smith & Elder. That is a 
position scarcely less honourable and important than 
authorship itself. In our o^n days Mr. George Meredith 
and Mr. John Morley have been '' readers,'' and Mr. 
James Payn has held the same post in the firm which 
published the Bronte novels. 

Mr. Williams, who was born in 1800, and died in 1S75, 
had an interesting career even before he became associ- 
ated \^T.th Smith & Elder. In his younger days he was 
apprenticed to Taylor & Hessey of Fleet Street; and he 
used to relate how his boyish ideals of Coleridge were 
shattered on beholding, for the first time, the bulky and 
ponderous figure of the great talker. W^hen Keats left 
England, for an early grave in Rome, it was Mr. Williams 
who saw him off. Hazlitt, Leigh Hunt, and many other 
well-known men of letters were friendly ^^^.th Mr. 
Williams from his earliest days, and he had for brother- 
in-law^ Wells, the author of Joseph and his Brethren. In 
his association ^\-ith Smith & Elder he secured the friend- 

343 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

ship of Thackeray, of Mrs. Gaskell, and of many other 
writers. He attracted the notice of Ruskin by a keen 
enthusiasm for the work of Turner. It w-as he, in fact, 
who compiled that most interesting volume of Selections 
from the writings of John Ruskin, which has long gone 
out of print in its first form, but is still greatly sought 
for by the curious. In connection with this volume I 
may print here a letter written by John Ruskin' s father 
to Mr. Williams, and I do so the more readily, as Mr. 
Williams's name was withheld from the title-page of the 
Selections. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Denmark Hill. 2^th November ^ 1861. 

My dear Sir^ — I am requested by Mrs. Ruskin to return 
her very sincere and grateful thanks for your kind con- 
sideration in presenting her with so beautifully bound a 
copy of the Selections from her son's writings; and which 
she will have great pleasure in seeing by the side of the 
very magnificent volumes which the liberality of the 
gentlemen of your house has already enriched our library 
with. 

Mrs. Ruskin joins me in offering congratulations on the 
great judgment you have displayed in your Selections, and^ 
sending my own thanks and those of my son for the hand- 
some gift to Mrs. Ruskin, — I am, my dear sir, yours very 
truly,, John James Ruskin. 

What Charlotte Bronte thought of Mr. Williams is 
sufficiently revealed by the multitude of letters which I 
have the good fortune to print, and that she had a reason 
to be grateful to him is obvious when we recollect that to- 
him, and to him alone, was due her first recognition. 
The parcel containing The Professor had wandered from 
publisher to publisher before it came into the hands of 
Mr. Williams. It was he who recognised what all of us 
recognise now, that in spite of faults it is really a most 
considerable book. I am inclined to think that it was 
refused by Smith & Elder rather on account of its in- 
sufficient length than for any other cause. At any rate 
it was the length which was assigned to her as a reason 
for non-acceptance. She was told that another book, 

344 



William Smith Williams 

which would make the accredited three volume novel, 
might receive more favourable consideration. 

Charlotte Bronte took iNlr. Williams's advice. She had 
already \\Tritten Jane Eyre, and despatched it quickly to 
Smith & Elder's house in Cornhill. It was read by Mr. 
WilUams, and read after^vards by Mr. George Smith; and 
it was published \vith the success that we know. Charlotte 
awoke to find herself famous. She became a regular 
correspondent with Mr. Williams, and not less than a 
hundred letters were sent to him., most of them treating 
of interesting Hterary matters. 

One of Mr. Williams's daughters, I may add, married 
Mr. Lowes Dickenson the portrait painter; his youngest 
child, a baby when Miss Bronte was aUve, is famous in 
the musical world as Miss Anna WilHams. The family 
has an abundance of hterary and artistic association, 
but the father we know as the friend and correspondent 
of Charlotte Bronte. He still hves also in the memory 
of a large circle as a kindly and attractive — a singularly 
good and upright man. 

Comment upon the following letters is in well-nigh 
every case superfluous. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

February 2^th, 1848. 

My dear SiR; — I thank you for your note ; its contents 
moved me much, though not to unmingled feelings of 
exultation. Louis PhiUppe (unhappy and sordid old man !) 
and M. Guizot doubtless merit the sharp lesson they are 
now being taught, because they have both proved them- 
selves men of dishonest hearts. And every struggle any 
nation makes in the cause of Freedom and Truth has some- 
thing noble in it — something that makes me wish it success ; 
but I cannot believe that France — or at least Paris — will 
ever be the battle-ground of true Liberty, or the scene of 
its real triumphs. I fear she does not know '' how genuine 
glory is put on." Is that strength to be found in her 
which will not bend " but in magnanimous meekness "? 
Have not her " unceasing changes " as yet always brought 
^^ perpetual emptiness " ? Has Paris the material within 
her for thorough reform.^ Mean, dishonest Guizot being 

345 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

discarded^ will any better successor be found for him 
than brilliant^ unprincipled Thiers? 

But I damp your enthusiasm^ which I would not wish 
to do, for true enthusiasm is a fine feeling whose flash I 
admire wherever I see it. 

The Httle note inclosed in yours is from a French lady, 
who asks my consent to the translation of Jane Eyre into 
the French language. I thought it better to consult you 
before I replied. I suppose she is competent to produce 
a decent translation, though one or two errors of ortho- 
graphy in her note rather afflict the eye; but I know that 
it is not unusual for what are considered well-educated 
French women to fail in the point of writing their mother 
tongue correctly. But whether competent or not, I 
presume she has a right to translate the book with or 

without my consent. She gives her address : Mdlle B ^ 

W. Gumming, Esq., 2^, North Bank, Regent's Park. 

Shall I reply to her note in the affirmative } 

Waiting your opinion and answers^ — I remain, dear sir, 
yours faithfully, C. Bell. 

TO W. S. WILLIAAIS 

February iSth, 1848. 

Dear Sir, — I have done as you advised me respecting 

Mdlle B , thanked her for her courtesy, and explained 

that I do not wish my consent to be regarded in the light 
of a formal sanction of the translation. 

From the papers of Saturday I had learnt the abdication 
of Louis Philippe, the flight of the royal family, and the 
proclamation of a republic in France. Rapid movements 
these, and some of them difficult of comprehension to a 
remote spectator. What sort of spell has withered Louis 
Philippe's strength.^ Why, after having so long infatu- 
atedly clung to Guizot, did he at once ignobly relinquish 
him ? Was it panic that made him so suddenly quit his 
throne and abandon his adherents without a struggle to 
retain one or aid the other .^ 

* Thus in original letter. 
346 



William Smith Williams 

Perhaps it might have been partly fear^ but I daresay 
it was still more long-gathering weariness of the dangers 
and toils of royalty. Few will pity the old monarch in his 
flighty yet I o^\ti he seems to me an object of pity. His 
sister's death shook him; years are hea\y on him; the 
sword of Damocles has long been hanging over his head. 
One cannot forget that monarchs and ministers are only 
human^ and have only human energies to sustain them; 
and often they are sore beset. Party spirit has no 
mercy; indignant Freedom seldom shows forbearance in 
her hour of revolt. I wish you could see the aged gentle- 
man trudging down Cornhill with his umbrella and carpet 
bag, in good earnest; he would be safe in England: John 
Bull might laugh at him but he would do him no harm. 

How strange it appears to see hterary and scientific 
names figuring in the list of members of a Provisional 
Government! How would it sound if Carlyle and Sir 
John Herschel and Tennyson and Mr. Thackeray and 
Douglas Jerrold were selected to manufacture a new con- 
stitution for England? Whether do such men sway the 
public mind most effectually from their quiet studies or 
from a council-chamber? 

And Theirs is set aside for a time ; but won't they be glad 
of him by-and-by? Can they set aside entirely anything 
so clever, so subtle, so accomplished, so aspiring— in a 
word, so thoroughly French, as he is ? Is he not the man 
to bide his time — to watch while unskilful theorists try 
their hand at administration and fail; and then to step 
out and show them how it should be done ? 

One would have thought political disturbance the natural 
element of a mind like Theirs'; but I know nothing of him 
except from his writings, and I always think he ^\Tites 
as if the shade of Bonaparte were walking to and fro in the 
room behind him and dictating every line he pens, some- 
times approaching and bending over his shoulder pour voir 
de ses yeux that such an action or event is represented or 
wzjrrepresented (as the case may be) exactly as he wishes 
it. Theirs seems to have contemplated Napoleon's 
character till he has imbibed some of its nature. Surely 

347 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

he must be an ambitious man^ and^ if so^ surely he will 
at this juncture struggle to rise. 

You should not apologise for what you call your 
*' crudities." You know I like to hear your opinions and 
views on whatever subject it interests you to discuss. 

From the little inscription outside your note I conclude 
you sent me the Examiner. I thank you therefore for 
your kind intention and am sorry some unscrupulous 
person at the Post Office frustrated it^ as no paper has 
reached my hands. I suppose one ought to be thankful 
that letters are respected^ as newspapers are by no means 
sure of safe conveyance. — I remain^ dear sir^ yours sincerely, 

C. Bell. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

May 12th, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — I take a large sheet of paper, because I 
foresee that I am about to write another long letter, and 
for the same reason as before, viz., that yours interested 
me. 

I have received the Morning Chronicle, and was both 
surprised and pleased to see the passage you speak of 
in one of its leading articles. An allusion of that sort 
seems to say more than a regular notice. I do trust I 
may have the power so to write in future as not to dis- 
appoint those who have been kind enough to think and 
speak well of Jane Eyre; at any rate, I will take pains. 
But still, whenever I hear my one book praised, the pleasure 
I feel is chastened by a mixture of doubt and fear; and, 
in truth, I hardly wish it to be otherwise : it is much too 
early for me to feel safe, or to take as my due the com- 
mendation bestowed. 

Some remarks in your last letter on teaching commanded 
my attention. I suppose you never were engaged in 
tuition yourself; but if you had been, you could not have 
more exactly hit on the great qualification — I had almost 
said the one great qualification — necessary to the task: 
the faculty, not merely of acquiring but of imparting 
knowledge — the power of influencing voung minds — that 

348 



William Smith Williams 

natural fondness for, that innate sympathy with, children, 
which, you say, Mrs. Williams is so happy as to possess. 
He or she who possesses this faculty, this sympathy — 
though perhaps not otherwise highly accomplished — 
need never fear failure in the career of instruction. 
Children will be docile with them, will improve under 
them; parents will consequently repose in them confi- 
dence. Their task will be comparatively light, their path 
comparatively smooth. If the faculty be absent, the life 
of a teacher will be a struggle from beginning to end. No 
matter how amiable the disposition, how strong the sense 
of duty, how active the desire to please; no matter how 
brilliant and varied the accomplishments ; if the governess 
has not the power to w^in her young charge, the secret 
to instil gently and surely her own knowledge into the 
growing mind intrusted to her, she will have a wearing, 
wasting existence of it. To educate a child, as I daresay 
Mrs. Williams has educated her children, probably with 
as much pleasure to herself as profit to them, will indeed 
be impossible to the teacher who lacks this qualification. 
But, I conceive, should circumstances — as in the case of 
your daughters — compel a young girl notwithstanding 
to adopt a governess's profession, she may contrive to 
instruct and even to instruct well. That is, though she 
cannot form the child's mind, mould its character, influ- 
ence its disposition, and guide its conduct as she would 
wish, she may give lessons — even good, clear, clever 
lessons in the various branches of knowledge. She may 
earn and doubly earn her scanty salary as a daily governess. 
As a school-teacher she may succeed; but as a resident 
governess she will never (except under peculiar and 
exceptional circumstances) be happy. Her deficiency 
will harass her not so much in school-time as in play-hours ; 
the moments that would be rest and recreation to the 
governess who understood and could adapt herself to 
children, will be almost torture to her who has not that 
power. Many a time, when her charge turns unruly on 
her hands, when the responsibility which she would wish 
to discharge faithfully and perfectly, becomes unmanage- 

349 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

able to her, she will wish herself a housemaid or kitchen 
girl, rather than a baited, trampled, desolate, distracted 
governess. 

The Governesses' Institution may be an excellent thing 
in some points of view, but it is both absurd and cruel to 
attempt to raise still higher the standard of acquirements. 
Already governesses are not half nor a quarter paid for 
what they teach, nor in most instances is half or a quarter 
of their attainments required by their pupils. The young 
teacher's chief anxiety, when she sets out in life, always is 
to know a great deal; her chief fear that she should not 
know enough. Brief experience will, in most instances, 
show her that this anxiety has been misdirected. She 
will rarely be found too ignorant for her pupils; the de- 
mand on her knowledge will not often be larger than she 
can answer. But on her patience — on her self-control, 
the requirement will be enormous; on her animal spirits 
(and woe be to her if these fail!) the pressure will be 
immense. 

I have seen an ignorant nursery-maid who could scarcely 
read or write, by dint of an excellent, serviceable, sanguine, 
phlegmatic temperament, which made her at once cheerful 
and unmoveable; of a robust constitution and steady, 
unimpassionable nerves, which kept her firm under shocks 
and unharassed under annoyances — manage with compara- 
tive ease a large family of spoilt children, while their 
governess lived amongst them a life of inexpressible misery : 
tyrannised over, finding her efforts to please and teach 
utterly vain, chagrined, distressed, worried — so badgered, 
so trodden on, that she ceased almost at last to know herself, 
and wondered in what despicable, trembling frame her op- 
pressed mind was prisoned, and could not realise the idea 
of ever more being treated with respect and regarded with 
affection — till she finally resigned her situation and went 
away quite broken in spirit and reduced to the verge 
of decline in health. 

Those who would urge on governesses more acquire- 
ments, do not know the origin of their chief sufferings. It 
is more physical and mental strength, denser moral im- 

350 



William Smith Williams 

passibility that they require^ rather than additional skill 
in arts or sciences. As to the forcing system^ whether 
applied to teachers or taught^ I hold it to be a cruel 
system. 

It is true the world demands a brilliant list of accomplish- 
ments. For ;£2o per annum^, it expects in one woman the 
attainments of several professors — but the demand is 
insensate^ and I think should rather be resisted than com- 
plied with. If I might plead with you in behalf of your 
daughters^ I should say^ '^ Do not let them waste their 
young lives in trying to attain manifold accomplishments. 
Let them tr\' rather to possess thoroughly^ ^uUy^ one or 
two talents; then let them endeavour to lay in a stock 
of health, strength^ cheerfukiess. Let them labour to 
attain seK-control, endurance, fortitude^ firmness; if 
possible^ let them learn from their mother something of the 
precious art she possesses — these things^ together with 
sound principles^ will be their best supports^, their best 
aids through a governess's life. 

As for that one who^ you say^ has a nervous horror of 
exhibition, I need not beg you to be gentle with her; I 
am sure you will not be harsh, but she must be firm with 
herself, or she will repent it in after life. She should begin 
by degrees to endeavour to overcome her diffidence. 
Were she destined to enjoy an independent, easy existence, 
she might respect her natural disposition to seek retire- 
ment, and even cherish it as a shade-loving virtue; but 
since that is not her lot, since she is fated to make her way 
in the crowd, and to depend on herself, she should say: 
I will try and learn the art of self-possession, not that I 
may display my accomplishments, but that I may have 
the satisfaction of feeling that I am my ovm mistress, and 
can move and speak undaunted by the fear of man. 
While, however, I pen this piece of advice, I confess that 
it is much easier to give than to follow. What the 
sensations of the nervous are under the gaze of publicity 
none but the nervous know; and how powerless reason 
and resolution are to control them would sound incredible 
except to the actual suft'erers. 

35^ 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

The rumours you mention respecting the authorship of 
Jane Eyre amused me inexpressibly. The gossips are, 
on this subject, just where I should wish them to be, ix,y 
as far from the truth as possible; and as they have not a 
grain of fact to found their fictions upon, they fabricate 
pure inventions. Judge Erie must, I think, have made 
up his story expressly for a hoax; the other j^Z? is amazing 
— so circumstantial! called on the author, forsooth! 
Where did he live, I wonder.^ In what purheu of Coc- 
kayne? Here I must stop, lest if I run on further I 
should fill another sheet. — Believe me, yours sincerely, 

CuRRER Bell. 

P.5. — I must, after all, add a morsel of paper, for I find, 
on glancing over yours, that I have forgotten to answer 
a question you ask respecting my next work. I have not 
therein so far treated of governesses, as I do not wish it to 
resemble its predecessor. I often wish to say something 
about the " condition of women '* question, but it is one 
respecting which so much *' cant '* has been talked, that 
one feels a sort of repugnance to approach it. It is true 
enough that the present market for female labour is quite 
overstocked, but where or how could another be opened } 
Many say that the professions now filled only by men 
should be open to women also ; but are not their present 
occupants and candidates more than numerous enough 
to answer every demand? Is there any room for female 
lawyers, female doctors, female engravers, for more female 
artists, more authoresses? One can see where the evil 
lies, but who can point out the remedy? When a woman 
has a little family to rear and educate and a household 
to conduct, her hands are full, her vocation is evident; 
when her destiny isolates her, I suppose she must do what 
she can, live as she can, complain as little, bear as much, 
work as well as possible. This is not high theory, but I 
believe it is sound practice, good to put into execution 
while philosophers and legislators ponder over the better 
ordering of the social system. At the same time, I con- 
ceive that when patience has done its utmost and industry 
its best, whether in the case of women or operatives, and 

352 



William Smith Williams 

when both are baffled^ and pain and want triumph^ the 
sufferer is free^ is entitled, at last to send up to Heaven 
any piercing cry for rehef, if by that cry he can hope to 
obtain succour. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

June 2, 1848. 

My dear Sir^ — I snatch a moment to wTite a hasty 
line to you, for it makes me uneasy to think that your last 
kind letter should have remained so long unanswered. 
A succession of httle engagements, much more importunate 
than important, have quite engrossed my time lately, 
to the exclusion of more momentous and interesting 
occupations. Interruption is a sad bore, and I beheve 
there is hardly a spot on earth, certainly not in England, 
quite secure from its intrusion. The fact is, you cannot 
hve in this world entirely for one aim; you must take along 
with some single serious purpose a hundred little minor 
duties, cares, distractions; in short, you must take Ufa 
as it is, and make the best of it. Summer is decidedly 
a bad season for application, especially in the country; 
for the sunshine seems to set all your acquaintances astir, 
and, once bent on amusement, they will come to the ends 
of the earth in search thereof. I was obhged to you for 
your suggestion about WTiting a letter to the Morning 
Chronicle, but I did not follow it up. I think I would 
rather not venture on such a step at present. Opinions 
I would not hesitate to express to you — because you are 
indulgent — ^are not mature or cool enough for the public; 
Currer Bell is not Carlyle, and must not imitate him. 

Whenever you can write to me without encroaching too 
much on your valuable time, remember I shall always be 
glad to hear from you. Your last letter interested me 
fully as much as its two predecessors; what you said about 
your family pleased me ; I think details of character always 
have a charm even when they relate to people we have 
never seen, nor expect to see. With eight children you 
must have a busy life; but, from the manner in which 

353 M 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

you allude to your two eldest daughters, it is evident that 
they at least are a source of satisfaction to their parents; 
I hope this will be the case with the whole number, and 
then you will never feel as if you had too many. A dozen 
children with sense and good conduct may be less burden- 
some than one who lacks these qualities. It seems a long 
time since I heard from you. I shall be glad to hear from 
you again. — Believe me, yours sincerely, C. Bell. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Haworth, June i$th, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — Thank you for your two last letters. In 
reading the first I quite realised your May hoHday; I 
enjoyed it with you. I saw the pretty south-of-England 
village, so different from our northern congregations of 
smoke-dark houses clustered round their soot-vomiting 
mills. I saw in your description, fertile, flowery Essex — 
a contrast indeed to the rough and rude, the mute and 
sombre yet well-beloved moors overspreading this corner 
of Yorkshire. I saw the white school-house, the venerable 
school-master — I even thought I saw you and your 
daughters; and in your second letter I see you all dis- 
tinctly, for, in describing your children, you unconsciously 
describe yourself. 

I may well say that your letters are of value to me, for I 
seldom receive one but I find something in it which makes 
me reflect, and reflect on new themes. Your town life is 
somewhat different from any I have known, and your 
allusions to its advantages, troubles, pleasures, and 
struggles are often full of significance to me. 

I have always been accustomed to think that the 
necessity of earning one's subsistence is not in itself an 
evil, but I feel it may become a heavy evil if health fails, if 
employment lacks, if the demand upon our efforts made 
by the weakness of others dependent upon us becomes 
greater than our strength suffices to answer. In such a 
case I can imagine that the married man may wish himself 
single again, and that the married woman, when she sees 

354 



William Smith Williams 

her husband over-exerting himself to maintain her and her 
children, may almost wish — out of the very force of her 
affection for him — that it had never been her lot to add 
to the weight of his responsibilities. Most desirable then 
is it that all. both men and women, should have the power 
and the will to work for themselves — ^most advisable that 
both sons and daughters should early be inured to habits 
of independence and industry. Birds teach their nestlings 
to fly as soon as their wings are strong enough, they even 
oblige them to quit the nest if they seem too unwilling to 
trust their pinions of their o^\TL accord. Do not the 
swallow and the starling thus give a lesson by which man 
might profit ? 

It seems to me that your kind heart is pained by the 
thought of what your daughter may suEer if transplanted 
from a free and indulged home existence to a life of con- 
straint and labour amongst strangers. Suffer she prob- 
ably w^ill; but take both comfort and courage, my dear 
sir, tr}' to soothe your anxiety by this thought, which is 
not a fallacious one. Hers will not be a barren suffering; 
she will gain by it largely; she will ^^ sow in tears to reap 
in joy/' A governess's experience is frequently indeed 
bitter, but its results are precious: the mind, feeling, 
temper are there subjected to a discipline equally painful 
and priceless. I have known many who v/ere unhappy as 
governesses, but not one who regretted having undergone 
the ordeal, and scarcely one whose character w^as not im« 
proved — at once strengthened and purified, fortified and 
softened, made more enduring for her own afflictions, 
more considerate for the affiictions of others, by passing 
through it. 

Should your daughter, however, go out as governess, she 
should first take a firm resolution not to be too soon 
daunted by difficulties, too soon disgusted by disagreeables; 
and if she has a high spirit, sensitive feelings, she should 
tutor the one to submit, the other to endure, for the sake 
of those at home. That is the governess's best talisman of 
patience, it is the best balm for wounded susceptibility. 
When tried hard she must say, ** I will be patient, not out 

355 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

of servility, but because I love my parents, and wish 
through my perseverance, diligence, and success, to repay 
their anxieties and tenderness for me." With this aid 
the least-deserved insult may often be swallowed quite 
calmly, like a bitter pill with a draught of fair water. 

I think you speak excellent sense when you say that girls 
without fortune should be brought up and accustomed to 
support themselves; and that if they marry poor men, it 
should be with a prospect of being able to help their 
partners. If all parents thought so, girls would not be 
reared on speculation with a view to their making mer- 
cenary marriages; and, consequently, women would not 
be so piteously degraded as they now too often are. 

Fortuneless people may certainly marry, provided they 
previously resolve never to let the consequences of their 
marriage throw them as burdens on the hands of their 
relatives. But as life is full of unforeseen contingencies, 
and as a woman may be so placed that she cannot possibly 
both '^ guide the house " and earn her livelihood (what 
leisure, for instance, could Mrs. Williams have with her 
eight children?), young artists and young governesses 
should think twice before they unite their destinies. 

You speak sense again when you express a wish that 
Fanny were placed in a position where active duties would 
engage her attention, where her faculties would be exer- 
cised and her mind occupied, and where, I will add, not 
doubting that my addition merely completes your half- 
approved idea, the image of the young artist would for the 
present recede into the background and remain for a few 
years to come in modest perspective, the finishing point 
of a vista stretching a considerable distance into futurity. 
Fanny may feel sure of this: if she intends to be an 
artist's wife she had better try an apprenticeship with 
Fortune as a governess first; she cannot undergo a better 
preparation for that honourable (honourable if rightly-con- 
sidered) but certainly not luxurious destiny. 

I should say then — judging as well as I can from the 
materials for forming an opinion your letter affords, and 
from what I can thence conjecture of Fanny's actual and 

356 



William Smith Williams 

prospective position — that you would do well and wisely 
to put your daughter out. The experiment might do good 
and could not do harm^ because even if she failed at the 
first trial (which is not unlikely) she would still be in some 
measure benefited by the effort. 

I duly received Mirabeau from Mr. Smith. I must 
repeat, it is really too kind. When I have read the book^ 
I will tell you what I think of it — its subject is interesting. 
One thing a little annoyed me — as I glanced over the pages 
I fancied I detected a savour of Carlyle's peculiarities of 
style. Now Carlyle is a great man^ but I always wish he 
would write plain English; and to imitate his Germanisms 
is^ I think^ to imitate his faults. Is the author of this 
work a Manchester man? I must not ask his name^ I 
suppose. — Believe me^ my dear sir^ yours sincerely^ 

CuRRER Bell. 

TO VV. S. WILLIAMS 

June 22nd y 1848. 

My dear Sir^ — After reading a book which has both 
interested and informed you^ you like to be able^ on laying 
it down J to speak of it with unqualified approbation — to 
praise it cordially; you do not like to stint your panegyric^ 
to counteract its effect with blame. 

For this reason I feel a little difficulty in telling you 
what I think of The Life of Mirabeau, It has interested 
me much^ and I have derived from it additional informa- 
tion. In the course of reading it^ I have often felt called 
upon to approve the ability and tact of the writer^ to 
admire the skill with which he conducts the narrative^ 
enchains the reader's attention^, and keeps it fixed upon 
his hero; but I have also been moved frequently to dis- 
approbation. It is not the political principles of the 
wTiter with which I find faulty nor is it his talents I feel 
inclined to disparage; to speak truth, it is his manner of 
treating Mirabeau' s errors that offends — then, I think, he 
is neither wise nor right — there, I think, he betrays a little 
of crudeness, a httle of presumption, not a little of in- 
discretion. 

357 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Could you with confidence put this work into the hands of 
your son^ secure that its perusal would not harm him^ that 
it would not leave on his mind some vague impression that 
there is a grandeur in vice committed on a colossal scale? 
Whereas, the fact is, that in vice there is no grandeur, that 
it is, on whichever side you \iew it, and in whatever 
accumulation, only a foul, sordid, and degrading thing. 
The fact is, that this great ^lirabeau was a mixture of 
divinity and dirt; that there was no divinity whatever 
in his errors, they were all sullying dirt; that they ruined 
him, brought down his genius to the kennel, deadened his 
fine nature and generous sentiments, made all his greatness 
as nothing; that they cut him off in his prime, obviated 
all his aims, and struck him dead in the hour w^hen France 
most needed him. 

Mirabeau's hfe and fate teach, to my perception, the 
most depressing lesson I have read for years. One would 
fain have hoped that so many noble qualities must have 
made a noble character and achieved noble ends. No — 
the mighty genius lived a miserable and degraded life, 
and died a dog's death, for want of self-control, for want 
of morality, for lack of religion. One's heart is \^Tung for 
Mirabeau after reading his life; and it is not of his great- 
ness we think, when we close the volume, so much as of 
his hopeless recklessness, and of the sufferings, degrada- 
tion, and untimely end in which it issued. It appears to 
me that the biographer errs also in being too solicitous to 
present his hero always in a striking point of view — too 
negligent of the exact truth. He eulogises him too much; 
he subdues all the other characters mentioned and keeps 
them in the shade that Mirabeau may stand out more 
conspicuously. This, no doubt, is right in art, and ad- 
missible in fiction; but in history (and biography is the 
history' of an individual) it tends to weaken the force of a 
narrative by weakening your faith in its accuracy. 



358 



William Smith Williams 



TO W. S. WILLL\^IS 

Chapter Coffee-House^ I\^ Lane, 
July Sih, 1848. 

My dear SiR; — Your invitation is too welcome^not to be 
at once accepted. I should much hke to see Mrs. Williams 
and her children, and very much like to have a quiet chat 
with yourself. Would it suit you if we came to-morrow, 
after dinner — say about seven o'clock, and spent Sunday 
evening with you ? 

We shall be trulv grlad to see vou whenever it is con- 
venient to you to call. — I am, my dear sir, yours faithfully, 

C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLL\:\IS 

Ha WORTH, July i^^th, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — We reached home safely yesterday, and 

in a day or two I doubt not we shall get the better of the 
fatigues of our journey. 

It was a somewhat hast\' step to hurry up to to^n as we 
did. but I do not regret having taken it. In the first place, 
mvsten.' is irksome, and I was s^lad to shake it off with vou 
and Mr. Smith, and to show mvself to vou for what I am, 
neither more nor less — thus rem.oving any false expecta- 
tions that may have arisen under the idea that Currer Bell 
had a just claim to the masculine cognomen he, perhaps 
somewhat presumptuously, adopted — that he was, in 
short, of the nobler sex. 

I was glad also to see you and Mr. Smith, and am very 
happy now to have such pleasant recollections of you both, 
and of your respective families. My satisfaction would 
have been complete could I have seen Mrs. WilliamxS. 
The appearance of your children tallied on the whole 
accurately with the description you had given of them. 
Fanny was the one I saw least distinctly ; I tried to get a 
clear view of her countenance, but her position in the room 
did not favour my efforts. 

I had just read your article in the Johji Bull: it very 

359 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

clearly and fully explains the cause of the difference 
obvious between ancient and modern paintings. I wish 
you had been with us when we went over the Exhibition 
and the National Gallery ; a little explanation from a judge 
of art would doubtless have enabled us to understand 
better what we saw; perhaps, one day, we may have this 
pleasure. 

Accept my own thanks and my sister's for your kind 
attention to us while in town, and — Believe me, yours 
sincerely, Charlotte Bronte. 

I trust Mrs. Williams is quite recovered from her in- 
disposition. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Ha worth, July 31^/. 1848. 

My dear Sir, — I have lately been reading Modern 
Painters, and I have derived from the work much genuine 
pleasure and, I hope, some edification; at any rate, it 
made me feel how ignorant I had previously been on the 
subject which it treats. Hitherto I have only had instinct 
to guide me in judging of art; I feel more as if I had been 
walking blindfold — this book seems to give me eyes. I 
do wish I had pictures within reach by which to test the 
new sense. Who can read these glowing descriptions of 
Turner's works without longing to see them? However 
eloquent and convincing the language in which another's 
opinion is placed before you, you still wish to judge for 
yourself. I like this author's style much: there is both 
energy and beauty in it; I like himself too, because he is 
such a hearty admirer. He does not give Turner half- 
measure of praise or veneration, he eulogises, he reverences 
him (or rather his genius) with his whole soul. One can 
sympathise with that sort of devout, serious admiration 
(for he is no rhapsodist) — one can respect it; and yet 
possibly many people would laugh at it. I am truly 
obliged to Mr. Smith for giving me this book, not having 
often met with one that has pleased me more. 

You will have seen some of the notices of Wild/ell Hall. 
I wish my sister felt the unfavourable ones less keenly. 

360 



William Smith Williams 

She does not say much^ for she is of a remarkably taciturn, 
still, thoughtful nature, reserved even ^yith her nearest of 
kin^ but I cannot avoid seeing that her spirits are depressed 
sometimes. The fact is^ neither she nor any of us expected 
that view to be taken of the book which has been taken 
by some critics. That it had faults of execution, faults 
of art^ was obvious^ but faults of intention or feeling could 
be suspected by none who knew the ^mter. For my ov\ti 
part^ I consider the subject unfortunately chosen — it was 
one the author was not qualified to handle at once ^agor- 
ously and truthfully. The simple and natural — quiet 
description and simple pathos are. I think^ Acton Bell's 
forte. I liked Agnes Grey better than the present work. 

Permit me to caution you not to speak of my sisters 
when you write to me. I m^ean^ do not use the word in 
the plural. Ellis Bell will not endure to be alluded to 
under any other appellation than the nam de plmne, I 
committed a grand error in betraying his identity to you 
and Mr. Smith. It was inadvertent — ^the v\'ords. " we are 
three sisters '' escaped m.e before I was aware. I regretted 
the avowal the moment I had made it: I regret it bitterly 
now. for I find it is aeainst every feeling and intention of 
Ellis BeU. 

I was greatly amused to see in the Examiner of this week 
one of Xewby's little cobwebs neatly swept away by som^e 
dexterous brush. If Xewby is not too old to profit by 
experience, such an exposure ought to teach him that 
*•' Honesty is indeed the best policy.'' 

Your letter has just been brought to me. I must not 
pause to thank you^ I should say too much. Our hfe is^ 
and always has been^ one of few pleasures^ as you seem 
in part to guess, and for that reason we feel what passages 
of enjoyment com.e in our way very keenly; and I think 
if you knew how pleased I am to get a long letter from you^ 
you would laugh at me. 

In return^ however^ I smile at you for the earnestness 
^4th which you urge on us the propriety of seeing some- 
thing of London society. There would be an advantage 
in it — a great advantage: yet it is one that no power on 

361 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

earth could induce Ellis Bell^ for instance^ to avail himself 
of. And even for Acton and Currer, the experiment of an 
introduction to society would be more formidable than you, 
probably, can well imagine. An existence of absolute 
seclusion and unvarying monotony, such as we have long 
— I may say, indeed, ever — been habituated to, tends, I 
fear, to unfit the mind for lively and exciting scenes, to 
destroy the capacity for social enjoyment. 

The only glimpses of society I have ever had were 
obtained in my vocation of governess, and some of the 
most miserable moments I can recall were passed in draw- 
ing-rooms full of strange faces. At such times, my animal 
spirits would ebb gradually till they sank quite away, and 
when I could endure the sense of exhaustion and solitude 
no longer, I used to steal off, too glad to find any corner 
where I could really be alone. Still I know very well, 
that though that experiment of seeing the world might 
give acute pain for the time, it would do good afterwards ; 
and as I have never, that I remember, gained any im- 
portant good without incurring proportionate suffering, 
I mean to try to take your advice some day, in part at 
least — to put oiT, if possible, that troublesome egotism 
which is alw^ays judging and blaming itself, and to try, 
country spinster as I am, to get a view of some sphere 
where civilised humanity is to be contemplated. 

I smile at you again for supposing that I could be 
annoyed at what you say respecting your religious and 
philosophical views ; that I could blame you for not being 
able, when you look amongst sects and creeds, to dis- 
cover any one which you can exclusively and implicitly 
adopt as yours. I perceive myself that some light falls 
on earth from Heaven — that some rays from the shrine of 
truth pierce the darkness of this fife and world ; but they 
are few, faint, and scattered, and who without presumption 
can assert that he has found the only true path upwards ? 

Yet ignorance, weakness, or indiscretion, must have 
their creeds and forms ; they must have their props — they 
cannot walk alone. Let them hold by what is purest in 
doctrine and simplest in ritual; something, they must have. 

362 



William Smith Williams 

I never read Emerson; but the book which has had so 
healing an effect on your mind must be a good one. Very 
enviable is the writer whose words have fallen like a gentle 
rain on a soil that so needed and merited refreshment^ 
whose influence has come like a genial breeze to lift a 
spirit which circumstances seem so harshly to have 
trampled. Emerson^ if he has cheered you, has not 
written in vain. 

May this feeling of self-reconcilement, of inward peace 
and strength, continue ! May you still be lenient with, be 
just to, yourself. I will not praise nor flatter you, I should 
hate to pay those enervating compliments which tend to 
check the exertions of a mind that aspires after excellence ; 
but I must permit myself to remark that if you had not 
something good and superior in you, something better, 
whether more showy or not, than is often met with, the 
assurance of your friendship would not make one so happy 
as it does ; nor would the advantage of your correspondence 
be felt as such a privilege. 

I hope Mrs. Williams's state of health may soon im- 
prove and her anxieties lessen. Blameable indeed are 
those who sow division where there ought to be peace, 
and especially deserving of the ban of society. 

I thank both you and your family for keeping our secret. 
It will indeed be a kindness to us to persevere in doing so; 
and I own I have a certain confidence in the honourable 
discretion of a household of which you are the head. — 
Believe me, yours very sincerely, C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

October iSth, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — Not feeling competent this evening 
either for study or serious composition, I will console 
myself with writing to you. My malady, which the 
doctors call a bilious fever, lingers, or rather it returns 
with each sudden change of weather, though I am thank- 
ful to say that the relapses have hitherto been much milder 

3^3 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

than the first attack ; but they keep me weak and reduced, 
especially as I am obliged to observe a very low spare diet. 

My book, alas ! is laid aside for the present; both head 
and hand seem to have lost their cunning; imagination 
is pale, stagnant, mute. This incapacity chagrins me; 
sometimes I have a feeling of cankering care on the subject, 
•but I combat it as well as I can; it does no good. 

I am afraid I shall not write a cheerful letter to you. A 
letter, however, of some kind I am determined to write, 
for I should be sorry to appear a neglectful correspondent 
to one from whose communications I have derived, and 
still derive, so much pleasure. Do not talk about not 
being on a level with Currer Bell, or regard him as ''an 
•awful person; " if you saw him now, sitting muffled at the 
fireside, shrinking before the east wind (which for some 
■days has been blowing wild and keen over our cold hills), 
and incapable of lifting a pen for any less formidable task 
than that of writing a few lines to an indulgent friend, you 
would be sorry not to deem yourself greatly his superior, 
for you would feel him to be a poor creature. 

You may be sure I read your views on the providence of 
God and the nature of man with interest. You are already 
aware that in much of what you say my opinions coincide 
with those you express, and where they differ I shall not 
-attempt to bias you. Thought and conscience are, or 
ought to be, free; and, at any rate, if your views were 
universally adopted there would be no persecution, no 
bigotry. But never try to proselytise, the world is not 
yet fit to receive what you and Emerson say: man, as he 
now is, can no more do without creeds and forms in 
religion than he can do without laws and rules in social 
intercourse. You and Emerson judge others by your- 
selves ; all mankind are not like you, any more than every 
Israelite was like Nathaniel. 

" Is there a human being," you ask, '' so depraved that 
-an act of kindness will not touch — nay, a word melt him ? " 
There are hundreds of human beings who trample on acts 
of kindness and mock at words of affection. I know this 
though I have seen but little of the world. I suppose I 

3^4 



William Smith Williams 

have something harsher in my nature than you have, 
something which every now and then tells me dreary 
secrets about my race, and I cannot believe the voice of 
the Optimist, charm he never so wisely. On the other 
hand, I feel forced to listen when a Thackeray speaks. I 
know truth is delivering her oracles by his hps. 

As to the great, good, magnanimous acts which have 
been performed by some men, we trace them up to motives 
and then estimate their value; a few, perhaps, would gain 
and many lose by this test. The study of motives is a 
strange one, not to be pursued too far by one falhble 
human being in reference to his fellows. 

Do not condemn me as uncharitable. I have no wish 
to urge my convictions on you, but I know that while there 
are many good, sincere, gentle people in the world, with 
whom kindness is all-powerful, there are also not a few 
like that false friend (I had almost \\Titten fiend) whom 
you so well and \'ividly described in one of your late 
letters, and who, in acting out his part of domestic traitor, 
must often have turned benefits into weapons wherewith 
to wound his benefactors. — Believe me, yours sincerely, 

C. Broxte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

April 2nd J 1849. 

My dear Sir, — My critics truly deserve and have my 
genuine thanks for the friendly candour with which they 
have declared their opinions on my book. Both Mr. 
WiUiams and Mr. Taylor express and support their 
opinions in a manner calculated to command careful con- 
sideration. In my turn I have a word to say. You both 
of you dwell too much on what you regard as the artistic 
treatment of a subject. Say what you will, gentlemen — 
say it as ably as you will — truth is better than art. Bums' 
Songs are better than Bulwer's Epics. Thackeray's rude, 
careless sketches are preferable to thousands of carefully 
finished paintings. Ignorant as I am, I dare to hold and 
maintain that doctrine. 

You must not expect me to give up Malone and Donne 



The Brontes and Their Chxle 

too suddenly — the pair are favourites with me; they 
shine with a chastened and pleasing lustre in that first 
chapter^ and it is a pity you do not take pleasure in their 
modest twinkle. Neither is that opening scene irrelevant 
to the rest of the book^ there are other touches in store 
which will harmonise with it. 

No doubt this handling of the surpHce will stir up such 
publications as the Christian Remembrancer and the 
Quarterly — those heavy Gohaths of the periodical press; 
and if I alone w^ere concerned, this possibihty would not 
trouble me a second. Full welcome would the giants be 
to stand in their greaves of brass, poising their ponderous 
spears, cursing their prey by their gods, and thundering 
invitations to the intended victim to ^' come forth '' and 
have his flesh given to the fowls of the air and the beasts 
of the field. Currer Bell, without pretending to be a 
David, feels no awe of the unwieldy Anakim; but — com- 
prehend m^e rightly, gentlemen — it would grieve him to 
involve others in blame: any censure that would really 
injure and annoy his publishers would wound himself. 
Therefore believe that he will not act rashly — trust his 
discretion. 

Mr. Taylor is right about the bad taste of the opening 
apostrophe — that I had already condemned in my own 
mind. Enough said of a work in embryo. Permit me 
to request in conclusion that the MS. may now be returned 
as soon as convenient. 

The letter you inclosed is from Mary Howitt. It con- 
tained a proposal for an engagement as contributor to 
an American periodical. Of course I have negatived it. 
When I can write, the book I have in hand must claim all 
my attention. Oh ! if Anne were well, if the void Death 
has left were a little closed up, if the dreary word never- 
more would cease sounding in my ears, I think I could yet 
do something. 

It is a long time since you mentioned your own family 
affairs. I trust LIrs. Williams continues well, and that 
Fanny and your other children prosper. — Yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 
366 



William Smith Williams 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

July yd, 1849. 

My dear Sir^ — ^You do right to address me on subjects 
which compel me, in order to give a coherent answer, to 
quit for a moment my habitual train of thought. The 
mention of your healthy-living daughters reminds me of 
the world where other people live — where I lived once. 
Theirs are cheerful images as you present them — I have 
no wish to shut them out. 

From all you say of Ellen, the eldest, I am inclined to 
respect her much. I Uke practical sense which works to 
the good of others. I esteem a dutiful daughter who 
makes her parents happy. 

Fanny's character I would take on second hand from 
nobody, least of all from her kind father^ w^hose estimate 
of human nature in general inclines rather to what ought 
to be than to what is. Of Fanny I w^ould judge for 
myself, and that not hastily nor on first impressions. 

I am glad to hear that Louisa has a chance of a presen- 
tation to Queen's College. I hope she will succeed. Do 
not, my dear sir, be indifferent — be earnest about it. 
Come what may afterwards, an education secured is an 
advantage gained — a priceless advantage. Come what 
may, it is a step towards independency, and one great 
curse of a single female life is its dependency. It does 
credit both to Louisa's heart and head that she herself 
wishes to get this presentation. Encourage her in the 
wush. Your daughters — no more than your sons — ^ 
should not be a burden on your hands. Your daughters — 
as much as your sons — should aim at making their way 
honourably through hfe. Do not wish to keep them at 
home. Believe me, teachers may be hard-worked, ill- 
paid, and despised, but the girl who stays at home doing 
nothing is worse off than the hardest-wrought and worst- 
paid drudge of a school. Whenever I have seen, not 
merely in humble, but in affluent homes, famiUes of 
daughters sitting waiting to be married, I have pitied 
them from my heart. It is doubtless well — very well — if 

367 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Fate decrees them a happy marriage; but, if othenvase, 
give their existence some object, their time some occupa- 
tion^ or the peevishness of disappointment and the Ustless- 
ness of idleness will infallibly degrade their nature. 

Should Louisa e\'entQally go out as a governess, do not 
be uneasy respecting her lot. The sketch you give of her 
character leads me to think she has a better chance of 
happiness than one in a hundred of her sisterhood. Of 
pleasing exterior (that is always an advantage — children 
like it), good sense. obHging disposition, cheerful, healthy, 
possessing a good average capacity, but no prominent 
master talent to make her miserable by its cravings for 
exercise, by its mutiny under restraint — Louisa thus 
endov.ed will find the post of governess comparatively 
easy. If she be like her mother — ^as you say she is — and if, 
consequently, she is fond of children, and possesses tact 
for managing them, their care is her natural vocation — 
she ought to be a governess. 

Your sketch of Eraxbome, as it is and as it was, is sadly 
pleasing. I remember your first picture of it in a letter 
written a year ago — only a year ago. I was in this room 
— where I now am — when I received it. I was not alone 
then. In those days your letters often served as a text 
for comment — a theme for talk; now, I read them, return 
them to their covers and put them away. Johnson, I 
think, makes mournful mention somewhere of the pleasure 
that accrues when we are " solitary and cannot impart it." 
Thoughts, under such circumstances, cannot grow to 
words, impulses fail to ripen to actions. 

Lonely as I am, how should I be if Providence had never 
grven me courage to adopt a career — perseverance to 
plead through two long, weary years with publishers till 
they admitted me? How should I be '^'ith youth past, 
sisters lost, a resident in a moorland parish where there is 
not a single educated family ? In that case I should have 
no world at all : the raven, weary of surv^eying the deluge, 
and without an ark to return to, would be my t\-pe. As 
it is, something like a hope and motive sustains me still. 
I wish all vour daughters — I wish ever}' woman in Eng- 

-.68 



William Smith Williams 

land^ had also a hope and motive. Alas ! there are many 
oIg maids who have neither. — BeHeve me^ yours sincerely^ 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIMIS 

July 26thy 1849. 

My dear SiR; — I must rouse myself to write a line to 
you. lest a more protracted silence should seem strange. 

Truly gk:d was I to hear of your daughter's success. I 
trust its results may conduce to the permanent advantage 
both of herseK and her parents. 

Of still more importance than your children's education 
is your wife's health, and therefore it is still more gratify- 
ing to learn that your anxiety on that account is likely 
to be alleviated. For her o\mi sake^ no less than for that 
of others^ it is to be hoped that she is now secured from a 
recurrence of her painful and dangerous attacks. It was 
pleasing^ too, to hear of good qualities being developed 
in the daughters by the mother's danger. May your girls 
always so act as to justify their father's kind estimate of 
their characters; may they never do what might dis- 
appoint or grieve him. 

Your suggestion relative to myself is a good one in some 
respects, but there are two persons whom it would not 
suit; and not the least incommoded of these would be the 
young person whom I might request to come and bury 
herself in the hills of Haworth. to take a church and stony 
churchyard for her prospect, the dead silence of a village 
parsonage — in which the tick of the clock is heard all day 
long — for her atmosphere, and a grave, silent spinster for 
her companion. I should not like to see youth thus 
immured. The hush and gloom of our house would be 
more oppressive to a buoyant than to a subdued spirit. 
The fact is, my work is my best companion; hereafter I 
look for no great earthly comfort except what congenial 
occupation can give. For society, long seclusion has in a 
great measure unfitted me, I doubt whether I should 
enjoy it if I might have it. Sometimes I think I should^ 
and I thirst for it; but at other times I doubt mv capa- 

569 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

bility of pleasing or deriving pleasure. The prisoner in 
solitary confinement^ the toad in the block of marble^ all 
in time shape themselves to their lot. — Yours sincerely, 

C. Bronts. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

September i^thj 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I want to know your opinion of the 
subject of this proof-sheet. Mr. Taylor censured it; he 
considers as defective all that portion which relates to 
Shirley's nervousness — the bite of the dog, etc. How did 
it strike you on reading it ? 

I ask this though I well know it cannot be now altered. 
I can work indefatigably at the correction of a work before 
it leaves my hands, but when once I have looked on it as 
completed and submitted to the inspection of others, it 
becomes next to impossible to alter or amend. With the 
heavy suspicion on my mind that all may not be right, 
I yet feel forced to put up with the inevitably wrong. 

Reading has, of late, been my great solace and recreation. 
I have read J. C. Hare's Guesses at Truth, sl book contain- 
ing things that in depth and far-sought wisdom sometimes 
recall the Thoughts of Pascal, only it is as the light of the 
moon recalls that of the sun. 

I have read with pleasure a little book on English Social 
Life by the wife of Archbishop Whately. Good and in- 
telligent women write well on such subjects. This lady 
speaks of governesses. I was struck by the contrast 
offered in her manner of treating the topic to that of Miss 
Rigby in the Quarterly. How much finer the feeling — 
how much truer the feeling — how much more delicate 
the mind here revealed I 

I have read Daznd Copperfield; it seems to me very 
good — admirable in some parts. You said it had affinity 
to Jane Eyre, It has, now and then — only what an 
advantage has Dickens in his varied knowledge of men 
and things! I am beginning to read Eckermann's 
Goethe — it promises to be a most interesting work. Honest, 

370 



William Smith Williams 

simple^ single-minded Eckermann! Great, powerful, 
giant-souled, but also profoundly egotistical, old Johann 
Wolfgang von Goethe! He was a mighty egotist — I see 
he was : he thought no more of swallowing up poor Ecker- 
caann's existence in his own than the whale thought of 
swallowing Jonah. 

The worst of reading graphic accounts of such men, of 
seeing graphic pictures of the scenes, the society, in which 
they moved, is that it excites a too tormenting longing to 
look on the reahty. But does such reahty now exist? 
Amidst all the troubled waters of European society does 
such a vast, strong, selfish, old Leviathan now roll pon- 
derous ! I suppose not. — BeHeve me, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLIAllS 

March igth, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — The books came yesterday evening 
just as I was wishing for them very much. There is much 
interest for me in opening the Comhill parcel. I wish 
there was not pain too — but so it is. As I untie the cords 
and take out the volumes, I am reminded of those who 
once on similar occasions looked on eagerly; I miss 
familiar voices commenting mirthfully and pleasantly; 
the room seems very still, very empty; but yet there is 
consolation in remembering that papa will take pleasure 
in some of the books. Happiness quite unshared can 
scarcely be called happiness — it has no taste,: 

I hope ^Irs. WiUiams continues well, and that she is 
beginning to regain composure after the shock of her 
recent bereavement. She has indeed sustained a loss for 
which there is no substitute. But rich as she still is in 
objects for her best affections, I trust the void will not be 
long or severely felt. She must think, not of what she 
has lost, but of what she possesses. With eight fine 
children, how can she ever be poor or sohtary! — Believe 
me, dear sir, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

371 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

April 12th, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — I own I was glad to receive your assur- 
ance that the Calcutta paper's surmise was unfounded?^ 
It is said that when we wish a thing to be true, we are 
prone to beheve it true; but I think (judging from myself) 
we adopt with a still prompter creduhty the rumour which 
shocks. 

It is very kind in Dr. Forbes to give me his book. I 
hope Mr. Smith will have the goodness to convey my 
thanks for the present. You can keep it to send with the 
next parcel, or perhaps I may be in London myself before 
May is over. That invitation I mentioned in a previous 
letter is still urged upon me, and well as I know what 
penance its acceptance would entail in some points, I also 
know the advantage it would bring in others. My con- 
science tells me it would be the act of a moral poltroon to 
let the fear of suffering stand in the way of improvement. 
But suffer I shall. No matter. 

The perusal of Southey's Life has lately afforded me 
much pleasure. The autobiography with which it com- 
mences is deeply interesting, and the letters which follow 
are scarcely less so, disclosing as they do a character most 
estimable in its integrity and a nature most amiable in its 
benevolence, as well as a mind admirable in its talent. 
Some people assert that genius is inconsistent with 
domestic happiness, and yet Southey was happy at home 
and made his home happy; he not only loved his wife 
and children though he was a poet, but he loved them the 
better because he was a poet. He seems to have been 
without taint of worldliness. London with its pomps and 
vanities, learned coteries with their dry pedantry, rather 
scared than attracted him. He found his prime glory in 
his genius, and his chief fehcity in home affections. I 
like Southey. 

I have likewise read one of Miss Austen's works — 

^ That Thackeray had written a certain unfavourable critique 
of Shirley, 



William Smith Williams 

Emma — read it with interest and with just the degree of 
admiration which Miss Austen herself would have thought 
sensible and suitable. Anything like warmth or en- 
thusiasm — anything energetic^ poignant, heart -felt is 
utterly out of place in commending these works : all such 
demonstration the authoress would have met with a well- 
bred sneer, would have calmly scorned as outre and 
extravagant. She does her business of delineating the 
surface of the lives of genteel English people curiously 
well. There is a Chinese fidelity, a miniature delicacy in 
the painting. She rufHes her reader by nothing vehement, 
disturbs him by nothing profound. The passions are 
perfectly unknown to her; she rejects even a speaking 
acquaintance with that stormy sisterhood. Even to the 
feelings she vouchsafes no more than an occasional grace- 
ful but distant recognition — too frequent converse with 
them would ruffle the smooth elegance of her progress. 
Her business is not half so much with the human heart as 
with the human eyes, mouth, hands, and feet. What 
sees keenly, speaks aptly, moves flexibly, it suits her to 
study; but what throbs fast and full, though hidden, 
what the blood rushes through, what is the unseen seat 
of life and the sentient target of death — this Miss Austen 
ignores. She no more, with her mind's eye, beholds the 
heart of her race than each man, with bodily vision, sees 
the heart in his heaving breast. Jane Austen was a com- 
plete and most sensible lady, but a very incomplete and 
rather insensible {not senseless) woman. If this is heresy, 
I cannot help it. If I said it to some people (Lewes for 
instance) they would directly accuse me of advocating 
exaggerated heroics, but I am not afraid of your falling 
into any such vulgar error. — Believe me, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

November gthj 1850. 

My dear Sir, — I^have read Lord John Russell's letter 
with very great zest and relish, and think him a spirited 
sensible little man for writing it. He makes no old- 

373 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

womanish outcry of alarm and expresses no exaggerated - 
WTath. One of the best paragraphs is that which refers '■ 
to the Bishop of London and the Puse^ites. Oh ! I wish ■ 
Dr. Arnold vrere yet living, or that a second Dr. Arnold '- 
could be found ! Were there but ten such men amongst 
the hierarchs of the Church of England she miight bid 
defiance to all the scarlet hats and stockings in the Pope's 
gift. Her sanctuaries would be purified, her rites reformed, 
her withered veins would swell again with \-ital sap; but 
it is not so. 

It is well that truth is indestructible — that ruin cannot 
crush nor fire annihilate her di\dne essence. While fonns 
change and institutions perish, " truth is great and shall 
prevail.'' 

I am truly glad to hear that Miss Kavanagh's health is 
improved. You can send her book whenever it is most 
convenient. I received from Cornhill the other day a 
periodical containing a portrait of Jenny Lind — a sweet, 
natural, innocent peasant-girl face, curiously contrasted 
with an artificial fine-lady dress. I do like and esteem 
Jenny's character. Yet not long since I heard her torn 
to pieces by the tongue of detraction — scarcely a virtue 
left — twenty odious defects imputed. 

There was likewise a most faithful portrait of R. H. 
Home, with his im^aginative forehead and somewhat 
fooHsh-looking mouth and chin, indicating that mixed 
character which I should think he o^^-ns. Mr. Home 
writes well. That tragedy on the Death of Marlowe 
reminds me of some of the best of Dumas' dramatic 
pieces. — Yours very sincerely^ C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

July 215/, 1851. 

My bear Sir, — I delayed answering your very interest- 
ing letter until the box should have reached me; and now 
that it is come I can only acknowledge its arrival: I 
cannot say at all what I felt as I unpacked its contents. 
These Cornhill parcels have something of the magic 

374 



William Smith Williams 

charm of a fairy gift about them, as well as of the less 
poetical but more substantial pleasure of a box from home 
received at school. You have sent me this time even 
more books than usual, and all good. 

What shall I say about the twenty numbers of splendid 
engravings laid cozily at the bottom ? The whole Vernon 
Gallery brought to one's fireside! Indeed, indeed I can 
say nothing, except that I will take care, and keep them 
clean, and send them back uninjured. — Believe me, yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIMIS 

November 6th, 185 1. 

My dear Sir, — I have true pleasure in inclosing for 
your son Frank a letter of introduction to Mrs. Gaskell, 
and earnestly do I trust the acquaintance may tend to 
his good. To make all sure— for I dislike to go on doubtful 
grounds — I ^\Tote to ask her if she would permit the 
introduction. Her frank, kind answer pleased me greatly. 

I have received the books. I hope to write again when 
I have read The Fair Car civ. The verv" title auo^urs well — 
it has no hackneyed sound. — Believe me. sincerely yours, 

C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLIAjMS 

Ha WORTH, May 28/A, 1853. 

My dear Sir, — The box of books arrived safely yester- 
day evening, and I feel especially obliged for the selection, 
as it includes several that will be acceptable and interesting 
to my father. 

I despatch to-day a box of return books. Among them 
will be found two or three of those just sent, being such 
as I had read before — z.^ ., Moore's Lije and Correspondence, 
ist and 2nd vols. ; Lamartine's Restoration of the Monarchy, 
etc. I have thought of you more than once during the 
late bright weather, knowing how genial you find warmth 
and sunshine. I trust it has brought this season its usual 

375 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

cheering and beneficial effect. Remember me kindly to 
Mrs. Williams and her daughters^ and^ — Believe me, 
yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

December 6ihj 1853. 

My dear Sir, — I forwarded last week a box of return 
books to Cornhill, which I trust arrived safely. To-day 
I received the Edinburgh Guardian^ for which I thank you. 

Do not trouble yourself to select or send any more books. 
These courtesies must cease some day, and I would rather 
give them up than wear them out. — Believe me, yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte. 

^ This article was by Joliii Skelton [Shirley), 



376 



CHAPTER XV 

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY 

The devotion of Charlotte Bronte to Thackeray, or 
rather to Thackeray's genius, is a pleasant episode in 
literar}^ history. In 1848 he sent Miss Bronte, as we 
have seen, a copy of Vanity Fair, In 1852 he sent her 
a copy of Esmond, mth the more cordial inscription 
which came of friendship: Miss Bronte, with W. M. 
Thackeray's grateful regards. October 28, 1852. 

The second edition of Jane Eyre was dedicated to him 
as possessed of '* an intellect profounder and more unique 
than his contemporaries have yet recognised,'' and as 
'' the first social regenerator of the day." And when 
Currer Bell was dead, it was Thackeray who wrote by 
far the most eloquent tribute to her memor}^ When a 
copy of Laurence's portrait of Thackeray was sent to 
Haworth by ^Ir. George Smith, Charlotte Bronte stood 
in front of it and, half playfully, half seriously, shook 
her fist, apostrophising its original as '' Thou Titan! " 

With all this hero-worship, it may be imagined that no 
favourable criticism gave her more unqualified pleasure 
than that which came from her '' master," as she was 
not indisposed to consider one who was only seven years 
her senior, and whose best books were practically con- 
temporaneous with her own, 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Haworth, October 2M1, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — Your last letter was very pleasant to me to 
read^ and is very cheering to reflect on. I feel honoured in 
being approved by Mr. Thackeray^ because I approve Mr. 
Thackeray. This may sound presumptuous perhaps^ but 
I mean that I have long recognised in his \\Titings genuine 
talent^ such as I admired^ such as I wondered at and de- 
lighted in. No author seems to distinguish so exquisitely 

377 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

as he does dross from ore, the real from the counterfeit. I 
believed too he had deep and true feelings under his 
seeming sternness. Now I am sure he has. One good 
word from such a man is worth pages of praise from 
ordinary judges. 

You are right in having faith in the reahty of Helen 
Burns' s character; she was real enough. I have exagger- 
ated nothing there. I abstained from recording much 
that I remember respecting her^ lest the narrative should 
sound incredible. Knowing this, I could not but smile 
at the quiet self-complacent dogmatism with which one 
of the journals lays it down that '' such creations as Helen 
Bums are very beautiful but ver}^ untrue." 

The plot of Jane Eyre may be a hackneyed one. Mr. 
Thackeray rem.arks that it is familiar to him. But having 
read comparatively few novels, I never chanced to meet 
with it, and I thought it original. The work referred to 
by the critic of the Athenceum, I had not had the good 
fortune to hear of. 

The Weekly Chronicle seems inclined to identify me 
^s-ith Mrs. Marsh. I never had the pleasure of perusing 
a line of Mrs. Marsh's in mv life, but I wish verv much 
to read her works, and shall profit by the first opportunity 
of doing so. I hope I shall not find I have been an 
unconscious imitator. 

I would still endeavour to keep my expectations low 
respecting the ultimate success of Jane Eyre, But my 
desire that it should succeed augments, for you have 
taken much trouble about the work, and it would grieve 
me seriously if your active efforts should be baffled and 
your sanguine hopes disappointed. Excuse me if I again 
remark that I fear they are rather too sanguine; it would 
be better to moderate them. What will the critics of the 
monthly reviews and magazines be likely to see in Jane 
Eyre (if indeed they deign to read it), which will win from 
them even a stinted modicum of approbation? It has 
no learning, no research, it discusses no subject of public 
interest. A m.ere domestic novel will, I fear, seem trivial 
to men of large views and solid attainments. 

378 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

Still, efforts so energetic and indefatigable as yours 
ought to realise a result in some degree favourable, and I 
trust they will. — I remain, dear sir, yours respectfully, 

C. Bell. 

I have just received the Tablet and the Morning Adver- 
tiser, Neither paper seems inimical to the book, but I see 
it produces a very different effect on different natures. I 
was amused at the analysis in the Tablet, it is oddly 
expressed in some parts. I think the critic did not always 
seize my meaning; he speaks, for instance, of ** Jane's 
inconceivable alarm at Mr. Rochester's repelling manner." 
I do not remember that. 



TO W. S. WILLIMIS 

December nth, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — I have delayed writing to you in the hope 
that the parcel you sent would reach me ; but after making 
due inquiries at the Keighley, Bradford, and Leeds 
Stations and obtaining no new^s of it, I must conclude that 
it has been lost. 

However, I have contrived to get a sight of Fraser^s 
Magazine from another quarter, so that I have only to 
regret Mr. Home's kind present. Will you thank that 
gentleman for me when you see him, and tell him that the 
railroad is to blame for my not having acknowledged his 
courtesy before ? 

Mr. Lewes is very lenient: I anticipated a degree of 
severity which he has spared me. This notice differs from 
all the other notices. He must be a man of no ordinary 
mind: there is a strange sagacity evinced in some of his 
remarks; yet he is not always right. I am afraid if he 
knew how much I write from intuition, how little from 
actual knowledge, he would think me presumptuous ever 
to have written at all. I am sure such would be his 
opinion if he knew the narrow bounds of my attainments, 
the limited scope of my reading. 

There are moments when I can hardly credit that 

379 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

anything I have done should be found worthy to give even 
transitory pleasure to such men as Mr. Thackeray, Sir 
John Herschel, Mr. Fonblanque, Leigh Hunt, and Mr. 
Lewes — that my humble efforts should have had such a 
result is a noble reward. 

I was glad and proud to get the bank bill Mr. Smith 
sent me yesterday, but I hardly ever felt delight equal 
to that which cheered me when I received your letter 
containing an extract from a note by Mr. Thackeray, in 
which he expressed himself gratified with the perusal of 
Jane Eyre, Mr. Thackeray is a keen ruthless satirist. I 
had never perused his writings but with blended feelings 
of admiration and indignation. Critics, it appears to me, 
do not know what an intellectual boa-constrictor he is. 
They call him " humorous," " brilliant " — his is a most 
scalping humour, a most deadly brilliancy: he does not 
play with his prey, he coils round it and crushes it in his 
rings. He seems terribly in earnest in his war against the 
falsehood and follies of " the world." I often wonder 
what that '' world " thinks of him. I should think the 
faults of such a man would be distrust of anything good 
in human nature — galling suspicion of bad motives 
lurking behind good actions. Are these his failings? 

They are, at any rate, the failings of his written senti- 
ments, for he cannot find in his heart to represent either 
man or woman as at once good and wise. Does he not 
too much confound benevolence with weakness and wisdom 
with mere craft? 

But I must not intrude on your time by too long a 
letter. — Believe me, yours respectfully, C. Bell. 

I have received the Sheffield Iris, the Bradford Observer, 
the Guardian, the Newcastle Guardian, and the Sunday 
Times since you wrote. The contrast between the notices 
in the two last named papers made me smile. The Sunday 
Times almost denounces Jane Eyre as something very 
reprehensible and obnoxious, whereas the Newcastle 
Guardian seems to think it a mild potion which may be 
'' safely administered to the most deHcate invalid." I 
suppose the public must decide when critics disagree. 

380 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Haworth^ December 2yd, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — I am glad that you and Messrs. Smith &: 
Elder approve the second preface. 

I send an errata of the first volume, and part of the 
second. I will send the rest of the corrections as soon as 
possible. 

Will the inclosed dedication suffice? I have made it 
brief, because I wished to avoid any appearance of pom- 
posity or pretension. 

The notice in the Church of England Journal gratified m^e 
much, and chiefly because it was the Church of England 
Journal. \Miatever such critics as he of the Mirror may 
say, I love the Church of England. Her ministers, indeed, 
I do not regard as infallible personages, I have seen too 
much of them for that, but to the Establishment, with all 
her faults — the profane Athanasian creed excluded — I am 
sincerely attached. 

Is the forthcoming critique on Mr. Thackeray's writings 
in the Edinburgh Review ^Titten by Mr. Lewes? I hope 
it is. Mr. Lewes, with his penetrating sagacity and fine 
acumen, ought to be able to do the author of Vanity Fair 
justice. Only he must not bring him down to the level 
of Fielding — he is far, far above Fielding. It appears 
to me that Fielding's style is arid, and his views of life and 
human nature coarse, compared with Thackeray's. 

W^ith many thanks for your kind wishes, and a cordial 
reciprocation of them, — I remain, dear sir, yours respect- 
fully, ' C. Bell. 

On glancing over this scrawl, I find it so illegibly wTitten 
that I fear you will hardly be able to decipher it; but the 
cold is partly to blame for this — my fingers are numb. 

The dedication here referred to is that to Thackeray. 
People had been already suggesting that the book might 
have been written by Thackeray under a pseudonym; 
others had implied, knowing that there was '* some- 
thing about a woman " in Thackeray's life, that it was 
written by a mistress of the great novelist. Indeed, the 

381 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Quarterly had half hinted as much. Currer Bell, kno\^ing 
nothing of the gossip of London, had dedicated her book 
in single-minded enthusiasm. Her distress was keen 
when it was revealed to her that the wife of Mr. Thacke- 
ray, like the wife of Rochester in Ja7ie Eyre, was of 
unsound mind. However, a correspondence with him 
would seem to have ended amicably enough.^ 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Haworth^ January lUh, 1848. 

Dear Sir. — I need not tell you that when I saw Mr. 
Thackeray's letter inclosed under your cover^ the sight 
made me very happy. It was some time before I dared 
open it^ lest my pleasure in receiving it should be mLxed 
with pain on learning its contents — lest^ in shorty the 
dedication should have been^ in some way. unacceptable 
to him. 

And. to tell the truths I fear this must have been the 
case; he does not say so^ his letter is most friendly in its 
noble simphcity^ but he apprises me^ at the commencement, 
of a circumstance which both surprised and dismayed me. 

I suppose it is no indiscretion to tell you this circum- 
stance, for you doubtless know it already. It appears 
that his private position is in some points similar to that 
I have ascribed to Mr. Rochester; that thence arose a 
report that Jane Eyre had been wTitten by a governess 
in his family, and that the dedication coming now has 
confirmed everybody in the surmise. 

Well may it be said that fact is often stranger than 
fiction ! The coincidence struck me as equally unfortunate 
and extraordinary. Of course I knew nothing whatever 
of Mr. Thackeray's domestic concerns, he existed for me 

1 Thackeray writes to Mr. Brookfield, in October 1S4S, as follows: 
— " Old Dilke of the AthencBum vows that Procter and his wife, 
between them, wrote Jane Eyre; and when I protest ignorance, 
says, * Pooh! you know* who wTote it — you are the deepest rogue 
in England, etc.* I wonder whether it can be true? It is just 
possible. And then what a singular circumstance is the -f- fire 
of the two dedications " [Jane Eyre to Thackeray, Vanity Fair to 
Barry Cornwall] .—.-1 Collection of Letters to W. M. Thackeray, 1847- 
1855. Smith & Elder. 

382 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

only as an author. Of all regarding his personality, 
station, connections, private history, I was, and am still 
in a great measure, totally in the dark ; but I am very very 
sorry that my inadvertent blunder should have made his 
name and affairs a subject for common gossip. 

The very fact of his not complaining at all and addressing 
me with such kindness, notwithstanding the pain and 
annoyance I must have caused him, increases my chagrin. 
I could not half express my regret to him in my answer, 
for I was restrained by the consciousness that that regret 
was just worth nothing at all — quite valueless for healing 
the mischief I had done. 

Can you tell me an}^hing more on this subject? or can 
you guess in what degree the unlucky coincidence would 
affect him — whether it would pain him much and deeply; 
for he says so little himself on the topic, I am at a loss to 
divine the exact truth — but I fear. 

Do not think, my dear sir, from my silence respecting 
the advice you have, at different times, given me for my 
future literary guidance, that I am heedless of, or in- 
different to, your kindness. I keep your letters and not 
unfrequently refer to them. Circumstances may render it 
impracticable for me to act up to the letter of what you 
counsel, but I think I comprehend the spirit of your pre- 
cepts, and trust I shall be able to profit thereby. Details, 
situations which I do not understand and cannot per- 
sonally inspect, I would not for the world meddle with, 
lest I should make even a m.ore ridiculous mess of the 
matter than Mrs. Trollope did in her Factory Boy, Besides, 
not one feeling on any subject, public or private, will I 
ever affect that I do not really experience. Yet though 
I must limit my s\*mpathies; though my observation 
cannot penetrate where the very deepest political and 
social truths are to be learnt; though many doors of 
knowledge which are open for you are for ever shut for 
me; though I must guess and calculate and grope my way 
in the dark, and come to uncertain conclusions unaided 
and alone where such wTiters as Dickens and Thackeray, 
having access to the shrine and image of Truth, have only 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

to go into the temple^ lift the veil a moment^ and come out 
and say what they have seen — yet with every disadvantage, 
I mean still, in my own contracted way, to do my best. 
Imperfect my best will be, and poor, and compared with 
the works of the true masters — of that greatest modem 
master Thackeray in especial (for it is him I at heart 
reverence with all my strength) — it will be trifling, but 
I trust not affected or counterfeit. — BeUeve me, my dear 
sir, yours with regard and respect, Currer Bell. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

March 2gthy 1848. 

My dear Sir, — The notice from the Church of England 
Quarterly Review is not on the whole a bad one. True, 
it condemns the tendency of Jane Eyre, and seems to 
think Mr. Rochester should have been represented as 
going through the mystic process of " regeneration " 
before any respectable person could have consented to 
believe his contrition for his past errors sincere; true, also, 
that it casts a doubt on Jane's creed, and leaves it doubtful 
whether she was Hindoo, Mahommedan, or infidel. But 
notwithstanding these eccentricities, it is a conscientious 
notice, very unlike that in the Mirror, for instance, which 
seemed the result of a feeble sort of spite, whereas this is 
the critic's real opinion : some of the ethical and theological 
notions are not according to his system, and he disapproves 
of them. 

I am glad to hear that Mr. Lewes's new work is soon to 
appear, and pleased also to learn that Messrs. Smith & 
Elder are the pubHshers. Mr. Lewes mentioned in the last 
note I received from him that he had just finished writing 
his new novel, and I have been on the look out for the 
advertisement of its appearance ever since. I shall long 
to read it, if it were onl> to get a further insight into the 
author's character. I read Ranthorpe with lively interest 
— there was much true talent in its pages. Two thirds of it 
I thought excellent, the latter part seemed more hastily 
and sketchily written. 

384 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

I trust Miss Kavanagh's work will meet with the success 
that^ from your account, I am certain she and it deserv^e. I 
think I have met with an outline of the facts on which her 
tale is founded in some periodical. Cha?72bers's Journal I 
beheve. No critic, however rigid, will find fault with "' the 
tendency " of her w^ork, I should think. 

I will tell you why you cannot fully S}Tiipathise with the 
French, or feel any firm confidence in their future move- 
ments : because too few of them are Lamartines, too many 
Ledru Rollins. That, at least, is my reason for watching 
their proceedings with more dread than hope. With the 
Germans it is different: to their rational and justifiable 
eSorts for liberty one can heartily wish well. 

It seems, as you say, as if change drew near England too. 
She is divided by the sea from the lands where it is making 
thrones rock, but earthquakes roll lower than the ocean, 
and we know neither the day nor the hour when the 
tremor and heat, passing beneath our island, may un- 
settle and dissolve its foundations. Meantime, one thing 
is certain, all will in the end work together for good. 

You mention Thackeray and the last number of Vanity 
Fair. The more I read Thackeray's works the more 
certain I am that he stands alone — alone in his sagacity, 
alone in his truth, alone in his feeling (his feeling, though 
he makes no noise about it, is about the most genuine 
that ever Hved on a printed page), alone in his power, 
alone in his simplicity, alone in his self-control. Thacke- 
ray is a Titan, so strong that he can afford to perform with 
calm the most herculean feats; there is the charm and 
majesty of repose in his greatest efforts; he borrows 
nothing from fever, his is never the energy of delirium — 
his energ}' is sane energy, deliberate energ}^, thoughtful 
energy. The last number of Vanity Fair proves this 
pecuHarly. Forcible, exciting in its force, still more 
impressive than exciting, carr^dng on the interest of the 
narrative in a flow, deep, full, resistless, it is still quiet — 
as quiet as reflection, as quiet as memor}-; and to me there 
are parts of it that sound as solemn as an oracle. Thacke- 
ray is never borne away by his own ardour — he has it 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

under control. His genius obeys him — it is his servant, 
it works no fantastic changes at its own wild w^ill, it must 
still achieve the task which reason and sense assign it, 
and none other. Thackeray is unique. I can say no 
more, I will say no less. — Believe me, yours sincerely, 

C. Bell. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

March 2nd, 1849. 

Your generous indignation against the Quarterly touched 
me. But do not trouble yourself to be angry on Currer 
Bell's account; except where the May-Fair gossip and Mr. 
Thackeray's name were brought in he was never stung at 
all, but he certainly thought that passage and one or two 
others quite unwarrantable. How^ever, slander without 
a germ of truth is seldom injurious : it resembles a rootless 
plant and must soon wither away. 

The critic would certainly be a little ashamed of herself 
if she knew what foolish blunders she had committed, if 
she were aware how completely Mr. Thackeray and Currer 
Bell are strangers to each other, that Jane Eyre was 
written before the author had seen one line of Vanity Fair, 
or that if C. Bell had known that there existed in Mr. 
Thackeray's private circumstances the shadow of a reason 
for fancying personal allusion, so far from dedicating the 
book to that gentleman, he would have regarded such a 
step as ill-judged, insolent,andindefensible,and would have 
shunned it accordingly. — Believe me, my dear sir, yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

August 14th, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — My sister Anne thanks you, as well as 
myself, for your just critique on Wild/ell Hall. It appears 
to me that your observations exactly hit both the strong 
and weak points of the book, and the advice which accom- 
panies them is worthy of, and shall receive, our most 
careful attention. 

386 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

The first duty of an author is^ I conceive^ a faithful 
allegiance to Truth and Nature; his second^ such a con- 
scientious study of Art as shall enable him to interpret 
eloquently and effectively the oracles delivered by those 
two great deities. The Bells are very sincere in their 
worship of Truths and they hope to apply themselves to 
the consideration of Art^ so as to attain one day the power 
of speaking the language of conviction in the accents of 
persuasion; though they rather apprehend that whatever 
pains they take to modify and soften, an abrupt word or 
vehement tone will now and then occur to startle ears 
poUte^ whenever the subject shall chance to be such as 
moves their spirits within them. 

I have aheady told you, I believe, that I regard Mr. 
Thackeray as the first of modem masters, and as the 
legitimate high priest of Truth; I study him accordingly 
with reverence. He, I see, keeps the mermaid's tail 
below water, and only hints at the dead men's bones and 
noxious slime amidst which it wriggles; hut, his hint is 
more vivid than other men's elaborate explanations, and 
never is his satire whetted to so keen an edge as when with 
quiet mocking irony he modestly recommends to the 
approbation of the pubhc his own exemplary discretion 
and forbearance. The world begins to know Thackeray 
rather better than it did two years or even a year ago, but 
as yet it only half knows him. His mind seems to me a 
fabric as simple and unpretending as it is deep-founded 
and enduring — there is no meretricious ornament to 
attract or fix a superficial glance; his great distinction 
of the genuine is one that can only be fully appreciated 
with time. There is something, a sort of " still pro- 
found," revealed in the concluding part of Vanity Fair 
which the discernment of one generation will not suffice 
to fathom. A hundred years hence, if he only lives to do 
justice to himself, he will be better known than he is now. 
A hundred years hence, some thoughtful critic, standing 
and looking down on the deep waters, will see shining 
through them the pearl without price of a purely original 
mind — such a mind as the Bulwers, etc., his contemporaries 

387 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

have not, — not acquirements gained from study, but the 
thing that came into the world with him — his inherent 
genius : the thing that made him^ I doubt not, different 
as a child from other children, that caused him, perhaps, 
peculiar griefs and struggles in life, and that now makes 
him as a writer unlike other writers. Excuse me for 
recurring to this theme, I do not wish to bore you. 

You say Mr. Huntingdon reminds you of Mr. Rochester. 
Does he? Yet there is no likeness between the two; the 
foundation of each character is entirely different. Hunting- 
don is a specimen of the naturally selfish, sensual, super- 
ficial man, whose one merit of a joyous temperament only 
avails him while he is young and healthy, whose best days 
are his earhest, who never profits by experience, who is 
sure to grow worse the older he grows. Mr. Rochester 
has a thoughtful nature and a very feeling heart; he is 
neither selfish nor self-indulgent; he is ill-educated, mis- 
guided; errs, when he does err, through rashness and in- 
experience: he lives for a time as too many other men 
hve, but being radically better than most men, he does 
not like that degraded life, and is never happy in it. He 
is taught the severe lessons of experience and has sense to 
learn wisdom from them. Years improve him; the effer- 
vescence of youth foamed away, what is really good in 
him still remains. His nature is like wine of a good 
vintage: time cannot sour, but only mellows him. Such 
at least was the character I meant to pourtray. 

Heathcliffe, again, of Wuihertng Heights is quite another 
creation. He exemplifies the effects which a hfe of con- 
tinued injustice and hard usage may produce on a naturally 
perverse, vindictive, and inexorable disposition. Care- 
fully trained and kindly treated, the black gipsy-cub 
might possibly have been reared into a human being, but 
tyranny and ignorance made of him a mere demon. The 
worst of it is, some of his spirit seems breathed through 
the whole narrative in which he figures : it haunts every 
moor and glen, and beckons in every fir-tree of the Heights. 

I must not forget to thank you for the Examiner and 
Atlas newspapers. Poor Mr. Newby! It is not enough 

388 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

that the Examiner nails him by both ears to the pillory, 
but the Atlas brands a token of disgrace on his forehead. 
This is a deplorable plight, and he makes all matters worse 
by his foolish little answers to his assailants. It is a pity 
that he has no kind friend to suggest to him that he had 
better not bandy words with the Examiner, His plea 
about the '' printer " was too ludicrous, and his second 
note is pitiable. I only regret that the names of Ellis 
and Acton Bell should perforce be mixed up with his pro- 
ceedings. My sister Aime wishes me to say that should 
she ever write another work, Mr. Smith will certainly have 
the first offer of the copyright. 

I hope Mrs. Williams's health is more satisfactory than 
when you last wrote. With every good wish to yourself 
and your family, — ^Believe me, my dear sir, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

December igth, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — I am again at home; and after the first 
sensations consequent on returning to a place more dumb 
and vacant that it once was, I am beginning to feel settled. 
I think the contrast with London does not make Haworth 
more desolate; on the contrary, I have gleaned ideas, 
images, pleasant feelings, such as may perhaps cheer many 
a long winter evening. 

You ask my opinion of your daughters. I wish I could 
give you one worth acceptance. A single evening's ac- 
quaintance does not suffice with me to form an opinion, 
it only leaves on my mind an impression. They impressed 
me, then, as pleasing in manners and appearance : Ellen's 
is a character to which I could soon attach myself, and 
Fanny and Louisa have each their separate advantages. 
I can, however, read more in a face like Mrs. Williams's 
than in the smooth young features of her daughters — 
time, trial, and exertion write a distinct hand, more legible 
than smile or dimple. I was told you had once some 
thoughts of bringing out Fanny as a professional singer, 
and it was added Fanny did not like the project. I 

3B9 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

thought to myself^ if she does not like it, it can never be 
successfully executed. It seems to me that to achieve 
triumph in a career so arduous, the artist's own bent to 
the course must be inborn, decided, resistless. There 
should be no urging, no goading; native genius and 
vigorous will should lend their wings to the aspirant — 
nothing less can lift her to real fame, and who would rise 
feebly only to fall ignobly? An inferior artist, I am sure, 
you would not wish your daughter to be, and if she is to 
stand in the foremost rank, only her own courage and re- 
solve can place her there; so, at least, the case appears 
to me. Fanny probably looks on publicity as degrading, 
and I believe that for a woman it is degrading if it is not 
glorious. If I could not be a Lind, I would not be a singer. 

Brief as my visit to London was, it must for me be 
memorable. I sometimes fancied myself in a dream — I 
could scarcely credit the reality of what passed. For 
instance, when I walked into the room and put my hand 
into Miss Martineau's, the action of saluting her and the 
fact of her presence seemed visionary. Again, when Mr. 
Thackeray was announced, and I saw him enter, looked up 
at his tall figure, heard his voice, the whole incident was 
truly dream-like, I was only certain it was true because 
I became miserably destitute of self-possession. Amour 
propre suffers terribly under such circumstances: woe 
to him that thinks of himself in the presence of intellectual 
greatness ! Had I not been obliged to speak, I could have 
managed well, but it behoved me to answer when addressed 
and the effort was torture — I spoke stupidly. 

As to the band of critics, I cannot say they overawed me 
much; I enjoyed the spectacle of them greatly. The two 
contrasts, Forster and Chorley, have each a certain edify- 
ing carriage and conversation good to contemplate. I by 
no means dislike Mr. Forster — quite the contrary, but the 
distance from his loud swagger to Thackeray's simple port 
is as the distance from Shakespeare's writing to Macready's 
acting. 

Mr. Chorley tantahsed me. He is a peculiar specimen — 
one whom you could set yourself to examine, uncertain 

390 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

whether, when you had probed all the small recesses of his 
character, the result would be utter contempt and aversion 
or whether for the sake of latent good you would forgive 
obvious evil. One could well pardon his unpleasant 
features, his strange voice, even his verv'' foppery and 
grimace, if one found these disadvantages connected with 
hving talent and any spark of genuine goodness. If there 
is nothing more than acquirement, smartness, and the 
affectation of philanthropy, Chorley is a fine creature. 

Remember me kindly to your wife and daughters, and 
— BeHeve me, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, December igth, 1849. 

Dear Ellen, — Here I am at Haworth once more. I 
feel as if I had come out of an exciting whirl. Not that 
the hurr\^ or stimulus would have seemed much to one 
accustomed to society and change, but to me they were 
very marked. My strength and spirits too often proved 
quite insufficient for the demand on their exertions. I 
used to bear up as well and as long as I possibly could, 
for, whenever I flagged, I could see Mr. Smith became 
disturbed; he always thought that something had h^wi 
said or done to annoy me, which never once happened, for- 
I met with perfect good breeding even from antagonists — = 
men who had done their best or worst to WTite me down.. 
I explained to him, over and over again, that my occa- 
sional silence was only failure of the power to talk, never 
of the will, but still he always seem.ed to fear there was. 
another cause underneath. 

Mrs. Smith is rather stern, but she has sense and dis- 
crimination; she watched me very narrowly. \Vhen sur-- 
rounded by gentlemen she never took her eye from me. i 
liked the surveillance, both when it kept guard over me"' 
amongst many, or only with her cherished one. She soon, 
I am convinced, saw in what light I received all, Thackeray 
included. Her " George " is a very fine specimen of a 
young English man of business; so I regard him, and I am 
proud to be one of his props. 

3^1 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Thackeray is a Titan of mind. His presence and powers 
impress me deeply in an intellectual sense; I do not see 
him or know him as a man. All the others are subordinate 
to these. I have esteem for some^ and^ I trust, courtesy 
for all. I do not of course know what they thought of me, 
but I believe most of them expected me to come out in a 
more marked eccentric, striking light. I believe they 
desired more to admire and more to blame. I felt suffi- 
ciently at my ease with all except Thackeray, and with 
him I was painfully stupid. 

Now, dear Nell, when can you come to Ha worth? 
Settle, and let me know as soon as you can. Give my 
best love to all. — Yours, C. B. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

January loth, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — Mrs. Ellis has made her '' morning call.'' 
I rather relished her chat about Shirley and Jane Eyre. 
She praises reluctantly and blames too often affectedly. 
But whenever a reviewer betrays that he has been 
thoroughly influenced and stirred by the work he criticises, 
it is easy to forgive the rest — hate and personality excepted. 

I have received and perused the Edinburgh Review — it is 
very brutal and savage. I am not angry with Lewes, but 
J wish in future he would let me alone, and not write again 
what makes me feel so cold and sick as I am feeling 
just now. 

Thackeray's Christmas Book at once grieved and pleased 
me, as most of his wTitings do. I have come to the con- 
tusion that whenever he writes, Mephistopheles stands on 
his right hand and Raphael on his left; the great doubter 
and sneerer usually guides the pen, the Angel, noble and 
gentle, interUnes letters of light here and there. Alas! 
Thackeray, I wish your strong wings would lift you oftener 
above the smoke of cities into the pure region nearer 
heaven ! 

Good-bye for the present,— Yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

392 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

TO REV. P. BRONTE 

76 Gloucester Terrace. Hyde Park^ 
London^ Thursday Morning, 

May 2gth, 1851. 

Dear Papa, — I write one hasty line just to tell you that 
I got here quite safely at ten o'clock last night without any 
damage or smash in tunnels or cuttings. Mr. and Mrs. 
Smith met me at the station and gave me a kind and 
cordial welcome. The weather was beautiful the whole 
way^ and warm; it is the same to-day. I have not yet 
been out, but this afternoon, if all be well, I shall go to Mr. 
Thackeray's lecture. I don't know when I shall see the 
Exhibition, but when I do, I shall \\Tite and tell you all 
about it. I hope you are well, and will continue well and 
cheerful. Give my kind regards to Tabby and Martha, 
and — Believe me, your affectionate daughter, 

C. Bronte. 

It cannot be said that Charlotte Bronte and Thackeray 
gained by personal contact. " With him I was painfully 
stupid," she says. It was the case of Heine and Goethe 
over again. Heine in the presence of the king of German 
literature could talk only of the plums in the garden. 
Charlotte Bronte in the presence of her hero Thackeray 
could not express herself with the vigour and intelligence 
w^hich belonged to her correspondence with Mr. Williams. 
Miss Bronte, again, was hyper-critical of the smaller 
vanities of men, and, as has been pointed out, she em- 
phasised in Villetie a trivial piece of not unpleasant 
egotism on Thackeray's part after a lecture — his asking 
her if she had liked it. This question, which nine men 
out of ten would be prone to ask of a woman friend, was 
" over-eagerness " and " nalveU " in her eyes. Thacke- 
ray, on his side, found conversation difficult, if we may 
judge by a reminiscence by his daughter Mrs. Ritchie: — 

" One of the most notable persons who ever came 
into our bow-wdndowed drawing-room in Young Street 
is a guest never to be forgotten by me — a tiny, delicate, 
httle person, whose smaU hand nevertheless grasped a 
mighty lever which set all the literary world of that 
day vibrating. I can still see the scene quite plainly 
— the hot summer evening, the open windows, the 

393 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

carriage driving to the door as we all sat silent and 
expectant; my father, who rarely waited, waiting with 
us ; our governess and my sister and I all in a row, and 
prepared for the great event. We saw the carriage 
stop, and out of it sprang the active well-knit figure 
of Mr. George Smith, who was bringing Miss Bronte 
to see our father. My father, who had been walking 
up and down the room, goes out into the hall to meet 
his guests, and then, after a moment's delay, the door 
opens wide, and the two gentlemen come in, leading a 
tiny, delicate, serious, little lady, pale, with fair straight 
hair, and steady eyes. She may be a little over thirty; 
she is dressed in a little barege dress, with a pattern of 
faint green moss. She enters in mittens, in silence, in 
seriousness; our hearts are beating with wild excite- 
ment. This, then, is the authoress, the unknown 
power whose books have set all London talking, reading, 
speculating; some people even say our father wrote 
the books — the wonderful books. To say that we little 
girls had been given Jane Eyre to read scarcely represents 
the facts of the case; to say that we had taken it with- 
out leave, read bits here and read bits there, been 
carried away by an undreamed-of and hitherto un- 
imagined whirlwind into things, times, places, all 
utterly absorbing, and at the same time absolutely 
unintelligible to us, would more accurately describe 
our state of mind on that summer's evening as we look 
at Jane Eyre — the great Jane Eyre — the tiny little 
lady. The moment is so breathless that dinner comes 
as a relief to the solemnity of the occasion, and we all 
smile as my father stoops to offer his arm; for, though 
genius she may be. Miss Bronte can barely reach his 
elbow. My own personal impressions are that she is 
somewhat grave and stern, especially to forward little I 
girls who wish to chatter. Mr. George Smith has since 
told me how she afterwards remarked upon my father's 
wonderful forbearance and gentleness with our uncalled- 
for incursions into the conversation. She sat gazing j 
at him with kindling eyes of interest, lighting up with a [ 
sort of illumination every now and then as she answered I 
him. I can see her bending forward over the table, 
not eating, but listening to what he said as he carved 
the dish before him. 

" I think it must have been on this very occasion , 
that my father invited some of his friends in the evening J^ 

394 ' 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

to meet Miss Bronte — for everybody was interested 
and anxious to see her. Mrs. Crowe, the reciter of 
ghost-stories, was there. Mrs. Brookfield, Mrs. Carlyle, 
Mr. Carlyle himself was present, so I am told, railing 
at the appearance of cockneys upon Scotch mountain 
sides; there were also too many Americans for his 
taste, '' but the Americans were as gods compared to 
the cockneys," says the philosopher. Besides the 
Carlyles, there were Mrs. Elliott and Miss Perry, Mrs. 
Procter and her daughter, most of my father's habitual 
friends and companions. In the recent life of Lord 
Houghton I was amused to see a note quoted in which 
Lord Houghton also was convened. Would that he 
had been present — perhaps the party would have gone 
ofi better. It was a gloomy and a silent evening. 
Every one waited for the brilliant conversation which 
never b^an at all. Miss Bronte retired to the sofa 
in the study, and murmured a low word now and then 
to our kind governess, Miss Truelock. The room looked 
very dark, the lamp began to smoke a little, the 
conversation grew dimmer and more dim, the ladies 
sat round still expectant, my father was too much 
perturbed b}^ the gloom and the silence to be able to 
cope with it at all. Mrs. Brookfield, who was in the 
doorway by the study, near the corner in which Miss 
Bronte was sitting, leant forward with a little common- 
place, since brilliance was not to be the order of the 
evening. '' Do you like London, Miss Bronte ? " she 
said; another silence, a pause, then Miss Bronte 
answers, 'Yes and No,' very gravely. Mrs. Brookfield 
has herself reported the conversation. My sister and 
I were much too young to be bored in those days; 
alarmed, impressed we might be, but not yet bored. 
A party was a party, a lioness was a lioness; and — 
shall I confess it ? — at that time an extra dish of biscuits 
was enough to mark the evening. We felt all the 
importance of the occasion: tea spread in the dining- 
room, ladies in the drawing-room. We roamed about 
inconveniently, no doubt, and excitedly, and in one of 
my incursions crossing the hall, after Miss Bronte had 
left, I was surprised to see my father opening the front 
door with his hat on. He put his fingers to his lips, 
walked out into the darkness, and shut the door quietly 
behind him. When I went back to the drawing-room 
again, the ladies asked me where he was. I vaguely 

395 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

answered that I thought he was coming back. I was 
puzzled at the time, nor was it all made clear to me till 
long years afterwards, when one day Mrs. Procter 
asked me if I knew what had happened once when my 
father had invited a party to meet Jane Eyre at his 
house. It was one of the dullest evenings she had ever 
spent in her life, she said. And then with a good deal 
of humour she described the situation — the ladies who 
had all come expecting so much delightful conversation, 
and the gloom and the constraint, and how, finally, 
overwhelmed by the situation, my father had quietly 
left the room, left the house, and gone off to his club. 
The ladies waited, wondered, and finally departed 
also; and as we were going up to bed with our candles 
after everybody was gone, I remem.ber two pretty 

Miss L s, in shiny silk dresses, arriving, full of 

expectation. . . . We still said we thought our father 

would soon be back, but the Miss L ^s declined to 

wait upon the chance, laughed, and drove away again 
almost immediately. ''^ 

TO REV. P. BRONTE 

December, 1849. 

Dear Papa^ — I must write another line to you to tell 
you how I am getting on. I have seen a great many things 
since I left home about which I hope to talk to you at 
future tea-times at home. I have been to the theatre and 
seen Macready in Macbeth. I have seen the pictures in 
the National Gallery. I have seen a beautiful exhibition 
of Turner's paintings^ and yesterday I saw Mr. Thackeray. 
He dined here with some other gentlemen. He is a very 
tall man — above six feet high, with a peculiar face, not 
handsome, very ugly indeed, generally somewhat stern 
and satirical in expression, but capable also of a kind look. 
He was not told who I was, he was not introduced to me, 
but I soon saw him looking at me through his spectacles ; 
and when we all rose to go down to dinner he just stepped 
quietly up and said, '' Shake hands "; so I shook hands. 

1 Chapters from Some Memories, by Anne Thackeray Ritchie. 
Macmillan & Co. Mrs. Ritchie and her publishers kindly permit 
me to incorporate her interesting reminiscence in this chapter. 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

He spoke very few words to me^ but when he went away 
he shook hands again in a very kind way. It is better^ I 
should think^ to have him for a friend than an enemy^ for 
he is a most formidable-looking personage. I listened to 
him as he conversed with the other gentlemen. All he says 
is most simple^ but often cynical, harsh, and contradictory. 
I get on quietly. Most people know me I think, but they 
are far too well bred to show that they know me, so that 
there is none of that bustle or that sense of publicity I 
dislike. 

I hope you continue pretty well ; be sure to take care of 
yourself. The weather here is exceedingly changeful, and 
often damp and misty, so that it is necessary to guard 
against taking cold. I do not mean to stay in London above 
a weekl longer, but I shall write again two or three days 
before I return. You need not give yourself the trouble of 
answering this letter unless you have something particular 
to say. Remember me to Tabby and Martha. — I remain, 
dear papa; your affectionate daughter, C. Bronte. 



TO REV. P. BRONTE 

76 Gloucester Terrace, 
Hyde Park, London, May 2,0th, 1851. 

Dear Papa, — I have now heard one of Mr. Thackeray's 
lectures and seen the great Exhibition. On Thursday 
afternoon I went to hear the lecture. It was delivered in 
a large and splendid kind of saloon — that in which the 
great balls of Almacks are given. The walls were all 
painted and gilded, the benches were sofas stuffed and 
cushioned and covered with blue damask. The audience 
was composed of the elite of London society. Duchesses 
were there by the score, and amongst them the great and 
beautiful Duchess of Sutherland, the Queen's Mistress of 
the Robes. Amidst all this Thackeray just got up and 
spoke with as much simplicity and ease as if he had been 
speaking to a few friends by his own fireside. The lecture 
was truly good : he has taken pains with the composition. 
It was finished without being in the least studied; a quiet 

397 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

humour and graphic force enlivened it throughout. He 
saw me as I entered the room, and came straight up and 
spoke very kindly. He then took me to his mother, a 
fine, handsome old lady, and introduced me to her. After 
the lecture somebody came behind me, leaned over the 
bench, and said, " Will you permit me, as a Yorkshireman, 
to introduce myself to you?" I turned round, was 
puzzled at first by the strange face I met, but in a minute 
I recognised the features. " You are the Earl of Carlisle," 
I said. He smiled and assented. He went on to talk for 
some time in a courteous, kind fashion. He asked after 
you, recalled the platform electioneering scene at Haworth, 
and begged to be remembered to you. Dr. Forbes came 
up afterwards, and Mr. Monckton Milnes, a Yorkshire 
Member of Parliament, who introduced himself on the 
same plea as Lord Carlisle. 

Yesterday we went to the Cr^^stal Palace. The exterior 
has a strange and elegant but somewhat unsubstantial 
effect. The interior is like a mighty Vanity Fair. The 
brightest colours blaze on all sides; and ware of all kinds, 
from diamonds to spinning jennies and printing presses, 
are there to be seen. It was very fine, gorgeous, animated, 
bewildering, but I liked Thackeray's lecture better. 

I hope, dear papa, that you are keeping well. With 
kind regards to Tabby and Martha, and hopes that they 
are well too, — I am, your affectionate daughter, 

C. Bronte. 

TO REV. P. BRONTE 

112 Gloucester Terrace, 

Hyde Park, June "jihy 185 1. 

Dear Papa, — I was very glad to hear that you con- 
tinued in pretty good health, and that Mr. Cartman came 
to help you on Sunday. I fear you will not have had a 
very comfortable week in the dining-room; but by this 
time I suppose the parlour reformation will be nearly com- 
pleted, and you will soon be able to return to your old 
quarters. The letter you sent me this morning was from 
Mary Taylor. She continues well and happy in New 

398 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

Zealand, and her shop seems to answer well. The French 
newspaper duly arrived. Yesterday I went for the second 
time to the Crystal Palace. We remained in it about three 
hours, and I must say I was more struck with it on this 
occasion than at my first visit. It is a wonderful place — 
vast, strange, new, and impossible to describe. Its 
grandeur does not consist in one thing, but in the unique 
assemblage of all things. Whatever human industry has 
created, you find there, from the great compartments filled 
with railway engines and boilers^ with mill-machinery in 
full work, with splendid carriages of all kinds, with harness 
of every description — to the glass-covered and velvet- 
spread stands loaded with the most gorgeous work of the 
goldsmith and silversmith, and the carefully guarded 
caskets full of real diamonds and pearls worth hundreds of 
thousands of pounds. It may be called a bazaar or a fair, 
but it is such a bazaar or fair as Eastern genii might have 
created. It seems as if magic only could have gathered 
this mass of wealth from all the ends of the earth — as if 
none but supernatural hands could have arranged it thus, 
with such a blaze and contrast of colours and marvellous 
power of effect. The multitude filling the great aisles 
seems ruled and subdued by some invisible influence. 
Amongst the thirty thousand souls that peopled it the day 
I was there, not one loud noise was to be heard, not one 
irregular movement seen — the living tide rolls on quietly, 
with a deep hum hke the sea heard from the distance. 

Mr. Thackeray is in high spirits about the success of his 
lectures. It is likely to add largely both to his fame and 
purse. He has, however, deferred this week's lecture till 
next Thursday, at the earnest petition of the duchesses 
and marchionesses, who, on the day it should have been 
delivered, were necessitated to go dowTi with the Queen 
and Court to Ascot Races. I told him I thought he did 
wrong to put it off on their account — and I think so still. 
The amateur performance of Bulwer's play for the Guild 
of Literature has likewise been deferred on account of the 
races. I hope, dear papa, that you, Mr. Nicholls, and all 
at home continue well. Tell Martha to take her scrubbing 

399 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

and cleaning in moderation and not overwork herself. 
With kind regards to her and Tabby, — I am, your affec- 
tionate daughter, C. Bronte. 



TO REV. P. BRONTE 

112 Gloucester Terrace, 

Hyde Park, June 14th, 1851. 

Dear Papa, — If all be well, and if Martha can get the 
cleaning, etc., done by that time, I think I shall be coming 
home about the end of next week or the beginning of the 
week after. I have been pretty well in London, only 
somewhat troubled with headaches, owing, I suppose, to 
the closeness and oppression of the air. The weather 
has not been so favourable as when I was last here, and in 
wet and dark days this great Babylon is not so cheerful. 
All the other sights seem to give way to the great Ex- 
hibition, into which thousands and tens of thousands 
continue to pour every day. I was in it again yesterday 
afternoon, and saw the ex-royal family of France — the 
old Queen, the Duchess of Orleans, and her two sons, etc., 
pass down the transept. I almost wonder the Londoners 
don't tire a little of this vast Vanity Fair — and, indeed, 
a new toy has somewhat diverted the attention of the 
grandees lately, viz., a fancy ball given last night by the 
Queen. The great lords and ladies have been quite wTapt 
up in preparations for this momentous event. Their pet 
and darling, Mr. Thackeray, of course sympathises with 
them. He was here yesterday to dinner, and left very 
early in the evening in order that he might visit respec- 
tively the Duchess of Norfolk, the Marchioness of London- 
derry, Ladies Chesterfield and Clanricarde, and see them 
all in their fancy costumes of the reign of Charles IL before 
they set out for the Palace ! His lectures, it appears, are a 
triumphant success. He says they w^ill enable him to 
make a provision for his daughters; and Mr. Smith be- 
lieves he will not get less than four thousand pounds by 
them. He is going to give two courses, and then go 
to Edinburgh and perhaps America, but not under the 

400 



William Makepeace Thackeray 

auspices of Barnum. Amongst others^ the Lord Chancellor 
attended his last lecture, and Mr. Thackeray says he 
expects a place from him; but in this I think he was 
joking. Of course Mr. T. is a good deal spoiled by all thiS;, 
and indeed it cannot be otherwise. He has offered two 
or three times to introduce me to some of his great friends, 
and says he knows many great ladies who would receive 
me with open arms if I would go to their houses; but, 
seriously, I cannot see that this sort of society produces 
so good an effect on him as to tempt me in the least to try 
the same experiment, so I remain obscure. 

Hoping you are well, dear papa, and with kind regards 
to Mr. Nicholls, Tabby, and Martha, also poor old Keeper 
and Flossy, — I am, your affectionate daughter, 

C. Bronte. 

PS. — I am glad the parlour is done and that you have 
got safely settled, but am quite shocked to hear of the 
piano being dragged up into the bedroom — there it must 
necessarily be absurd, and in the parlour it looked so well, 
besides being convenient for your books. I wonder why 
you don't like it. 

There are many pleasant references to Thackeray to be 
found in Mrs. Gaskell's book, including a letter to Mr. 
George Smith, thanking him for the gift of the novelist's 
portrait. '' He looks superb in his beautiful, tasteful, 
gilded gibbet,'' she says. A few years later, and Thacke- 
ray was to write the eloquent tribute to his admirer, 
which is familiar to his readers: " I fancied an austere 
little Joan of Arc marching in upon us and rebuking our 
easy lives, our easy morals." " She gave me," he tells 
us, '' the impression of being a very pure, and lofty, and 
high-minded person. A great and holy reverence of 
right and truth seemed to be with her always. Who 
that has known her books has not admired the artist's 
noble English, the burning love of truth, the bravery, 
the simplicity, the indignation at wrong, the eager 
sympathy, the pious love and reverence, the passionate 
honour, so to speak, of the woman? What a story is 
that of the family of poets in their solitude yonder on 
the gloomy Yorkshire moors! " 

401 



CHAPTER XVI 

LITERARY FRIENDSHIPS 

There is a letter, printed by Mrs. Gaskell, from Char- 
lotte Bronte to Ellen Nussey, in which Miss Bronte, 
when a girl of seventeen, discusses the best books to 
read, and expresses a particular devotion to Sir Walter 
Scott. During those early years she was an indefatig- 
able student of literature. She read all that her father's 
study and the Keighley library could provide. When 
the years brought literary fame and its accompanying 
friendships, she was able to hold her own with the many 
men and women of letters whom she was destined to 
meet. Her staunchest friend was undoubtedly Mr. 
Williams, who sent her, as we have seen, all the newest 
books from London, and who appears to have discussed 
them with her as well. Next to Mr. Williams we must 
place his chief at Cornhill, Mr. George Smith, and Mr. 
Smith's mother. Mr. Smith lived to our own day to 
reign over the famous house which introduced Thackeray, 
John Ruskin, and Charlotte Bronte to the world, dying 
in 1 90 1. What Charlotte thought of him may be 
gathered from her frank acknowledgment that he was 
the original of Dr. John in Villette, as his mother was the 
original of Mrs. Bretton — perhaps the two most entirely 
charming characters in Charlotte Bronte's novels. Mrs. 
Smith and her son lived, at the beginning of the friend- 
ship, at Westbourne Place, but afterwards removed to 
Gloucester Terrace, and Charlotte stayed with them at 
both houses. It was from the former that this first 
letter was addressed. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

4 Westbourne Place, 

Bishop's Road, London. 
December 2nd, 1849. 

Dear Ellen, — I have just remembered that as you do 
not know my address you cannot write to me till you get 
it; it is as above. I came to this big Babylon last Thurs- 
day, and have been in what seems to me a sort of whirl 

402 



Literary Friendships 

ever since; for changes^ scenes, and stimulus which would 
be a trifle to others, are much to me. I found when I 
mentioned to Mr. Smith my plan of going to Dr. Wheel- 
wright's it would not do at all — he would have been 
seriously hurt. He made his mother write to me, and 
thus I was persuaded to make my principal stay at his 
house. I have found no reason to regret this decision. 
Mrs. Smith received me at first like one who had received 
the strictest orders to be scrupulously attentive. I had 
fires in my bedroom evening and morning, wax candles, 
etc., etc. Mrs. Smith and her daughters seemed to look 
upon me with a mixture of respect and alarm. But all 
this is changed — that is to say the attention and polite- 
ness continues as great as ever, but the alarm and es- 
trangement are quite gone. She treats me as if she liked 
me, and I begin to lilce her much; kindness is a potent 
heart-winner. I had not judged too favourable of her son 
on a first impression; he pleases me much. I like him 
better even as a son and brother than as a man of business. 
Mr. Wilhams, too, is really most gentlemanly and well- 
informed. His weak points he certainly has, but these 
are not seen in society. Mr. Taylor — the little man — has 
again shown his parts ; in fact, I suspect he is of the Hel- 
stone order of men — rigid, despotic, and self-willed. He 
tries to be very kind and even to express sympathy some- 
times, but he does not manage it. He has a determined, 
dreadful nose in the middle of his face, which, when poked 
into my countenance, cuts into my soul like iron. Still, 
he is horribly intelligent, quick, searching, sagacious, and 
with a memory of relentless tenacity. To turn to Mr. 
Williams after him, or to Mr. Smith himself, is to turn 
from granite to easy down or warm fur. I have seen 
Thackeray. C. Bronte. 

TO JAMES TAYLOR, Cornhill 

'November 6th , 1849. 
My dear Sir, — I am afraid Mr. Williams told you I was 
sadly ^' put out " about the Daily News, and I believe it is 
to that circumstance I owe your letters. But I have now 

403 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

made good resolutions^ which were tried this morning by 
another notice in the same style in the Observer, The 
praise of such critics mortifies more than their blame ; an 
author who becomes the object of it cannot help momen- 
tarily wishing he had never written. And to speak of the 
press being still ignorant of my being a woman! Why 
can they not be content to take Currer Bell for a man? 

I imagined, mistakenly it now appears, that Shirley bore 
fewer traces of a female hand than Jane Eyre ; that I have 
misjudged disappoints me a little, though I cannot exactly 
see where the error lies. You keep to your point about 
the curates. Since you think me to blame, you do right 
to tell me so. I rather fancy I shall be left in a minority 
of one on that subject. 

I was indeed very much interested in the books you 
sent. Eckermann's Conversations with Goethe, Guesses at 
Truth, Friends in Council, and the little work on English 
social life pleased me particularly, and the last not least. 
We sometimes take a partiality to books as to characters, 
not on account of any brilliant intellect or striking peculi- 
arity they boast, but for the sake of something good, 
delicate, and genuine. I thought that small book the 
production of a lady, and an amiable, sensible woman, 
and I like it. 

You must not think of selecting any more works for me 
yet, my stock is still far from exhausted. 

I accept your offer respecting the Athenceum ; it is a 
paper I should like much to see, providing you can send it 
without trouble. It shall be punctually returned. 

Papa's health has, I am thankful to say, been very satis- 
factory of late. The other day he walked to Keighley and 
back, and was very little fatigued. I am myself pretty 
well. 

With thanks for you kind letter and good wishes, — 
Believe me, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

Mrs. Gaskell has much to say of Miss Bronte's relations 
with George Henry Lewes. ^ He was a critic with whom 

1 George Henry Lewes (i 817-1878). Published Biographical 
History of Philosophy, 1845-46; Ranthorpe, 1847; Rose, Blanche, 

404 



Literary Friendships 

she had much correspondence and not a few differences. 
It will be remembered that Charlotte describes him as 
bearing a resemblance to Emily — a curious circumstance 
by the light of the fact that Lewes was always adjudged 
among his acquaintances as a peculiarly ugly man. Here 
is a portion of a letter upon which Mrs. Gaskell practised 
considerable excisions, and of which she prints the 
remainder: — 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

June 12th, 1850. 

I have seen Lewes. He is a man with both weakness 
and sinS; but unless I err greatly, the foundation of his 
nature is not bad : and were he almost a fiend in character 
I could not feel other^vise to him than half-sadly, half- 
tenderly. A queer word that last, but I use it because the 
aspect of Lewes's face almost moves me to tears, it is so 
wonderfully like Emily — her eyes, her features, the very 
nose, the somewhat prominent mouth, the forehead — 
even, at moments, the expression. \Vhatever Lewes 
does or says, I believe I cannot hate him. Another like- 
ness I have seen, too, that touched me sorrowfully. You 
remember my speaking of a Miss Kavanagh, a young 
authoress, who supported her mother by her writiQgs. 
Hearing from Mr. Williams that she had a longing to see 
me, I called on her yesterday. I found a little, ahnost 
dwarfish figure, to which even I had to look do\Mi; not 
deformed — that is, not hunch-backed, but long-armed 
and with a large head, and (at first sight) a strange face. 
She met me half -frankly, half -tremblingly; we sat do^vTi 
together, and when I had talked with her five minutes, 
her face was no longer strange, but mournfully famiUar — 
it was Martha Taylor on every lineament. I shaU try to 
find a moment to see her again. She Uves in a poor but 
clean and neat little lodging. Her mother seems a some- 
what weak-minded woman, who can be no companion to 
her. Her father has quite deserted his wife and child, 

a)Trd Violet, 184S; Life of Goethe, 1S55. Editor of Fortnightly Re- 
mew, 1865-66. ProhUfns of Life and Mind, 1873-79; and many 
other works. 

405 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

and this poor little^ feeble, intelligent, cordial thing wastes 
her brains to gain a living. She is twenty-five years old. 
I do not intend to stay here, at the furthest, more than a 
week longer; but at the end of that time I cannot go 
home, for the house at Haworth is just now unroofed; 
repairs were become necessary. 

I should like to go for a week or two to the sea-side, in 
which case I wonder whether it would be possible for you 
to join me. Meantime, with regards to all — Believe me, 
yours faithfully, C. B. 

But her acqtiaintance with Lewes had apparently 
begun three years earlier. 



TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

November 6th, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — I should be obliged to you if you will direct 
the inclosed to be posted in London as I wish to avoid 
giving any clue to my place of residence, publicity not 
being my ambition. 

It is an answer to the letter I received yesterday, 
favoured by you. This letter bore the signature G. H. 
Lewes, and the writer informs me that it is his intention 
to write a critique on Jane Eyre for the December number 
of Fraser^s Magazine, and possibly also, he intimates, a 
brief notice to the W esiminster Review, Upon the whole 
he seems favourably inclined to the work, though he hints 
disapprobation of the melodramatic portions. 

Can you give me any information respecting Mr. Lewes ? 
what station he occupies in the literary world and what 
works he has written? He styles himself " a fellow 
novelist." There is something in the candid tone of his 
letter which incHnes me to think well of him. 

I duly received your letter containing the notices from 
the Critic, and the two magazines, and also the Morning 
Post. I hope all these notices will work together for good; 
they must at any rate give the book a certain publicity. — 
Yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

406 



Literary Friendships 

Mr. R. H. Home ^ sent her his Orion, 

TO R. H. HORNE 

December T-^th, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — You will have thought me strangely tardy 
in acknowledging your courteous present, but the fact is 
it never reached me till yesterday; the parcel containing 
it was mis-sent — consequently it lingered a fortnight on 
its route. 

I have to thank you, not merely for the gift of a little 
book of 137 pages, but for that of a poem. Very real, very 
sweet is the poetry of Orion; there are passages I shall 
recur to again and yet again — passages instinct both with 
power and beauty. All through it is genuine — pure from 
one flaw of affectation, rich in noble imagery. How far 
the applause of critics has rewarded the author of Orion 
I do not know, but I think the pleasure he enjoyed in its 
composition must have been a bounteous meed in itself. 
You could not, I imagine, have written that epic without 
at times deriving deep happiness from your work. 

With sincere thanks for the pleasure its perusal has 
afforded me, — I remain, dear sir, yours faithfully, 

C. Bell. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

Haworth, December i^th, 1847. 

Dear Sir, — I write a line in haste to apprise you that 
I have got the parcel. It was sent, through the careless- 
ness of the railroad people, to Bingley, where it lay a fort- 
night, till a Haworth carrier happening to pass that way 
brought it on to me. 

I was much pleased to find that you had been kind 
enough to forward the Mirror along with Fraser, The 
article on '' the last new novel " is in substance similar to 

1 Richard Hengist Home (i 803-1 884). Published Cosmo de Medici, 
1837; Orion, an epic poem in ten books, passed through six edi- 
tions in 1843, the first three editions being issued at a farthing; A 
New Spirit of the Age, 1844; Letters of E. B. Browning to R. H. 
Home, 1^77. 

407 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

the notice in the Sunday Times, One passage only excited 
much interest in me; it was that where allusion is made 
to some former work which the author of Jane Eyre is 
supposed to have pubHshed — there^ I own^ my curiosity 
was a little stimulated. The reviewer cannot mean the 
little book of rhymes to which Currer Bell contributed a 
third ; but as that^ and Jane Eyre, and a brief translation 
of some French verses sent anonymously to a magazine, 
are the sole productions of mine that have ever appeared 
in print, I am puzzled to know to what else he can refer. 

The reviewer is mistaken, as he is in perverting my 
meaning, in attributing to me designs I know not, prin- 
ciples I disown. 

I have been greatly pleased with Mr. R. H. Home's 
poem of Orion. Will you have the kindness to forward 
to him the inclosed note, and to correct the address if it is 
not accurate.^ — Believe me, dear sir, yours respectfully, 

C. Bell. 

The following elaborate criticism of one of Mr. Lewes' s 
now forgotten novels is almost pathetic; it may give a 
modern critic pause in his serious treatment of the 
abundant literary ephemera of which we hear so much 
from day to day. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

May ist, 1848. 

My dear Sir, — I am glad you sent me your letter just 
as you had written it — without revisal, without retrench- 
ing or softening touch, because I cannot doubt that I am 
a gainer by the omission. 

It would be useless to attempt opposition to your 
opinions, since, in fact, to read them was to recognise, 
almost point for point, a clear definition of objections I 
had already felt, but had found neither the power nor the 
will to express. Not the power, because I find it very 
difficult to analyse closely, or to criticise in appropriate 
words! and not the will, because I was afraid of doing 
Mr. Lewes injustice. I preferred overrating to under- 
rating the merits of his work. 

408 



Literary Friendships 

Mr. Lewes's sinceritrv, enersrv. and talent assuredly 
command the reader's respect, but on what points he 
depends to win his attachment I know not. I do not 
think he cares to excite the pleasant feeUngs which inchne 
the taught to the teacher as much in friendship as in 
reverence. The display of his acquirements, to which 
almost every page bears testimony — citations from Greek, 
Latin, Italian, Spanish, French, and German authors 
covering as with embroider}^ the texture of his English — 
awes and astonishes the plain reader; but if, in addition, 
you permit yourself to require the refining charm of 
dehcacy, the elevating one of imagination — if you permit 
yourself to be as fastidious and exacting in these matters 
as, by your own confession, it appears you are, then Mr. 
Lewes must necessarily inform you that he does not deal 
in the article; probably he will add that therefore it must 
be non-essential. I should fear he might even stigmatise 
imagination as a figment, and delicacy as an affectation. 

An honest rough heartiness Mr. Lewes will give you; 
yet in case you have the misfortune to remark that the 
heartiness might be quite as honest if it were less rough, 
would you not run the risk of being termed a sentimenta- 
list or a dreamer? 

Were I privileged to address Mr. Lewes, and were it wise 
or becoming to say to him exactly what one thinks, I 
should utter words to this efi'ect — 

'' You have a sound, clear judgment as far as it goes, 
but I conceive it to be limited: your standard of talent is 
high, but I cannot acknowledge it to be the highest; you 
are deser\-ing of all attention when you lay down the law 
on principles, but you are to be resisted when you dogma- 
tise on feelings. 

"To a certain point, Mr. Lewes, you can go, but no 
farther. Be as sceptical as you please on whatever lies 
beyond a certain intellectual limit; the mysten,- will never 
be cleared up to you, for that limit you will never over- 
pass. Not all your learning, not all your reading, not all 
your sagacity, not all your perseverance can help you over 
one viewless line — one boundar}^ as impassable as it is 

409 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

invisible. To enter that sphere a man must be bom. 
within it; and untaught peasants have there drawn their 
first breathy while learned philosophers have striven hard 
till old age to reach it^ and have never succeeded." I 
should not dare^ nor would it be rights to say this to Mr. 
Lewes^ but I cannot help thinking it both of him and many 
others who have a great name in the world. 

Hester ^lason's character^ career^ and fate appeared to 
me so strange^ grovelling^ and miserable^ that I never for 
a moment doubted the whole dreary picture was from 
the life. I thought in describing the " rustic poetess/' 
in giving the details of her vulgar provincial and 
disreputable metropolitan notoriety^ and especially in 
touching on the ghastly catastrophe of her fate, he 
was faithfully recording facts — thus, however repulsively, 
yet conscientiously " pointed a moral/' if not " adorning 
a tale ''; but if Hester be the daughter of Lewes's imagina- 
tion, and if her experience and her doom be inventions of 
his fancy, I wish him better, and higher, and truer taste 
next time he writes a novel. 

Julius's exploit with the side of bacon is not defensible; 
he might certainly, for the fee of a shilling or sixpence^ 
have got a boy to carr}' it for him. 

Captain Heath, too, must have cut a deplorable figure 
behind the post-chaise. 

Mrs. Vyner strikes one as a portrait from the life; and it 
equally strikes one that the artist hated his original model 
with a personal hatred. She is made so bad that one 
cannot in the least degree sympathise with any of those 
who love her; one can only despise them. She is a fiend, 
and therefore not like ^h. Thackeray's Rebecca, where 
neither vanity, heartlessness, nor falsehood have been 
spared by the vigorous and skilful hand which portrays 
them, but where the human being has been preserved 
nevertheless, and where, consequently, the lesson given 
is infinitely more impressive. We can learn Httle from 
the strange fantasies of demons — we are not of their kind; 
but the vices of the deceitful, selfish man or woman 
humble and warn us. In your remarks on the good girls 

410 



Literary Friendships 

I concur to the letter; and I must add that I think 
Blanche^ amiable as she is represented^ could never have 
loved her husband after she had discovered that he was 
utterly despicable. Love is stronger than Cruelty^ 
stronger than Death, but perishes under Meanness; Pity 
may take its place, but Pity is not Love. 

So far, then, I not only agree with you, but I marvel 
at the nice perception with which you have discriminated, 
and at the accuracy with which you have marked each 
coarse, cold, improbable, unseemly defect. But now I 
am going to take another side: I am going to differ from 
you, and it is about Cecil Chamberlayne. 

You say that no man who had intellect enough to paint 
a picture, or write a comic opera, could act as he did; you 
say that men of genius and talent may have egregious 
faults, but they cannot descend to brutality or meanness. 
Would that the case were so ! Would that intellect could 
preserve from low vice! But, alas! it cannot. No, the 
while character of Cecil is painted with but too faithful a 
hand; it is very masterly, because it is very true. Lewes 
is nobly right when he says that intellect is not the highest 
faculty of man, though it may be the most brilliant; 
when he declares that the moral nature of his kind is more 
sacred than the intellectual nature; when he prefers 
'' goodness, lovingness, and quiet self-sacrifice to all the 
talents in the world." 

There is something divine in the thought that genius 
preserves from degradation, were it but true; but Savage 
tells us it was not true for him; Sheridan confirms the 
avowal, and Byron seals it with terrible proof. 

You never probably knew a Cecil Chamberlayne. If 
you had known such a one you would feel that Lewes has 
rather subdued the picture than overcharged it; you would 
know that mental gifts without moral firmness, without 
a clear sense of right and wrong, without the honourable 
principle which makes a man rather proud than ashamed 
of honest labour, are no guarantee from even deepest 
baseness. 

I have received the Dublin University Magazine, The 

411 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

notice is more favourable than I had anticipated; indeed, 
I had for a long time ceased to anticipate any from that 
quarter; but the critic does not strike one as too bright. 
Poor Mr. James is severely handled: yon likewise, are 
hard upon him. He always strikes me as a miracle of 
productiveness. 

I must conclude by thanking you for your last letter, 
which both pleased and instructed me. You are quite 
right in thinking it exhibits the writer's character. Yes, 
it exhibits it unniistakeably (as Lewes would say). And 
whenever it shall be my lot to submit another MS. to your 
inspection, I shall crave the full benefit of certain points 
in that character : I shall ever entreat my first critic to be 
as impartial as he is friendly; what he feels to be out of 
taste in my writings, I hope he will unsparingly condemn. 
In the excitement of composition, one is apt to fall into 
errors that one regrets afterwards, and we never feel our 
own faults so keenly as when we see them exaggerated in 
others. 

I conclude in haste, for I have written too long a letter; 
but it is because there was much to answer in yours. It 
interested me. I could not help wishing to tell you how 
nearly I agreed wuth you. — Believe me, yours sincerely, 

C. Bell. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

April ^th, 1849. 

My dear Sir, — Your note was very welcome. I 
purposely impose on myself the restraint of writing to 
you seldom now, because I know but too well my letters 
cannot be cheering. Yet I confess I am glad when the 
post brings me a letter: it reminds me that if the sun of 
action and life does not shine on us, it yet beams full on 
other parts of the world — and I like the recollection. 

I am not going to complain. Anne has indeed suffered 
much at intervals since I last wrote to you — frost and east 
wind have had their effect. She has passed nights of 
sleeplessness and pain, and days of depression and languor 
which nothing could cheer — but still, with the return of 

412 



Literary Friendships 

genial weather she revives. I cannot perceive that she 
is feebler now than she was a month ago, though that is 
not saying much. It proves, however, that no rapid 
process of destruction is going on in her frame, and keeps 
alive a hope that with the renovating aid of summer she 
may yet be spared a long time. 

What you tell me of Mr. Lewes seems to me highly 
characteristic. How sanguine, versatile, and self-confi- 
dent must that man be who can with ease exchange the 
quiet sphere of the author for the bustling one of the 
actor! I heartily wish him success; and, in happier 
times, there are few things I should have relished more than 
an opportunity of seeing him in his new character. 

The Comhill books are still our welcome and congenial 
resource when Anne is well enough to enjoy reading. 
Carlyle's Miscellanies interest me greatly. We have read 
The Emigrant Family. The characters in the work are 
good, full of quiet truth and nature, and the local colouring 
is excellent; yet I can hardly call it a good novel. Re- 
flective, truth-loving, and even elevated as is Alexander 
Harris's mind, I should say he scarcely possesses the 
creative faculty in sufficient vigour to excel as a writer 
of fiction. He creates nothing — he only copies. His 
characters are portraits — servilely accurate; whatever 
is at all ideal is not original. The Testimony to the 
Truth is a better book than any tale he can write will ever 
be. Am I too dogmatical in saying this ? 

Anne thanks you sincerely for the kind interest you 
take in her welfare, and both she and I beg to express our 
sense of Mrs. Williams's good wishes, which you mentioned 
in a former letter. We are grateful, too, to Mr. Smith and 
to all who offer us the sympathy of friendship. 

Whenever you can write with pleasure to yourself, 
remember Currer Bell is glad to hear from you, and he will 
make his letters as little dreary as he can in reply. — Yours 
sincerely, C. Bronte. 

It was always a great trouble to Miss Wheelwright, 
whose friendship, it will be remembered, she had made 
in Brussels, that Charlotte was monopolised by the 

413 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Smiths on her rare visits to London, but she frequently 
came to call at Lower Phillimore Place. 

TO MISS L.ETITIA WHEELWRIGHT 

HawortH; Keighley^ December ijth, 1849. 

My dear LiETiTiA^ — I have just time to save the post 
by writing a brief note. I reached home safely on Satur- 
day afternoon^ and, I am thankful to say, found papa quite 
well. 

The evening after I left you passed better than I 
expected. Thanks to my substantial lunch and cheering 
cup of coffee, I was able to wait the eight o'clock dinner 
with complete resignation, and to endure its length quite 
courageously, nor was I too much exhausted to converse ; 
and of this I was glad, for otherwise I know my kind host 
and hostess would have been much disappointed. There 
were only seven gentlemen at dinner besides Mr. Smith, 
but of these, five were critics — a formidable band, in- 
cluding the literary Rhadamanthi of the Times, the 
AthencEum, the Examiner, the Spectator, and the Atlas: 
men more dreaded in the world of letters than you can 
conceive. I did not know how much their presence and 
conversation had excited me till they were gone, and then 
reaction commenced. When I had retired for the night 
I wished to sleep ; the effort to do so was vain — I could not 
close my eyes. Night passed, morning came, and I rose 
without having knov/n a moment's slumber. So utterly 
worn out was I when I got to Derby, that I was obliged to 
stay there all night. 

The post is going. Give my affectionate love to your 
mamma, Emily, Fanny, and Sarah Anne. Remember 
me respectfully to your papa, and — Believe me, dear 
Lsetitia, yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

Miss Wheelwright's other sisters well remembered 
certain episodes in connection with these London visits. 
They recalled Charlotte's anxiety and trepidation at the 
prospect of meeting Thackeray. They recollected her 
simple, dainty dress, her shy demeanour, her absolutely 
unspoiled character. They told me it was in the Illustrated 

414 



Literary Friendships 

London News, about the time of the publication of 
Shirley, that they first learnt that Currer Bell and 
Charlotte Bronte were one. They would, however, 
have known that Shirley w^as by a Brussels pupil, they 
declared, from the absolute resemblance of Hortense 
Moore to one of their governesses — Mile. Hausse. 

At the end of 1849 Miss Bronte and Miss Martineau 
became acquainted. Charlotte's admiration for her 
more strong-minded sister writer was at first profound. 

TO JAMES TAYLOR 

January 1st, 1851. 

My dear Sir, — I am sorry there should have occurred 
an irregularity in the transmission of the papers; it has 
been owing to my absence from home. I trust the inter- 
ruption has occasioned no inconvenience. Your last 
letter evinced such a sincere and discriminating admiration 
for Dr. Arnold, that perhaps you will not be wholly un- 
interested in hearing that during my late visit to Miss 
Martineau I saw much more of Fox How and its inmates, 
and daily admired, in the widow and children of one of the 
greatest and best men of his time, the possession of 
qualities the most estimable and endearing. Of my kind 
hostess herself I cannot speak in terms too high. Without 
being able to share all her opinions, philosophical, political, 
or religious, without adopting her theories, I yet find a 
worth and greatness in herself, and a consistency, bene- 
volence, perseverance in her practice such as wins the 
sincerest esteem and affection. She is not a person to be 
judged by her writings alone, but rather by her own 
deeds and life — than which nothing can be more exemplary 
or nobler. She seems to me the benefactress of Ambleside, 
yet takes no sort of credit to herself for her active and 
indefatigable philanthrophy. The government of her 
household is admirably administered ; all she does is well 
done, from the writing of a history down to the quietest 
female occupation. No sort of carelessness or neglect 
is allowed under her rule, and yet she is not over strict 
nor too rigidly exacting; her servants and her poor 
neighbours love as well as respect her. 

415 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

I must not^ however, fall into the error of talking too 
much about her^ merely because my owti mind is just now 
deeply impressed with what I have seen of her intellectual 
power and moral worth. Faults she has, but to me they 
appear very trivial weighed in the balance against heV 
excellencies. 

With every good wish of the season, — I am, my dear sir, 
yours very sincerely, C. Broxte. 

Meanwhile the excitement which Shirley was exciting 
in Currer Bell's home circle was not confined to the 
curates. Here is a letter which Canon Heald (Cyril 
Hall) wrote at this time: — 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

BiRSTALL, near Leeds, 
^th January 1850. 

Dear Ellen, — Fame says you are on a visit with the 
renowned Currer Bell, the " great unknowm " of the pre- 
sent day. The celebrated Shirley has just found its way 
hither. And as one always reads a book with more 
interest when one has a correct insight into the writer's 
designs, I write to ask a favour, which I ought not to be 
regarded presumptuous in saying that I think I have a 
species of claim to ask, on the ground of a sort of " poetical 
justice." The interpretation of this enigma is, that the 
story goes that either I or my father, I do not exactly 
know which, are part of '' Currer Bell's " stock-in-trade, 
under the title of Mr. Hall, in that Mr. Hall is represented 
as black, bilious, and of dismal aspect, stooping a trifle, 
and indulging a little now and then in the indigenous 
dialect. This seems to sit very well on your humble 
servant — other traits do better for my good father than 
myself. However, though I had no idea that I should be 
made a means to amuse the public, Currer Bell is perfectly 
welcome to what she can make of so unpromising a subject. 
But I think I have a fair clai?n in return to be let into the 
secret of the compa^iy I have got into. Some of them are 
good enough to tell, and need no CEdipus to solve the 

416 



Literary Friendships 

riddle. I can tabulate^ for instance^ the Yorke family for 
the Taylors, Mr. Moore— Mr. Cartwright, and Mr. Helstone 
is clearly meant for Mr. Robertson, though the authoress 
has evidently got her idea of his character through an 
unfavourable medium, and does not understand the full 
value of one of the most admirable characters I ever knew 
or expect to know. May thinks she descries Cecilia 
Crowther and Miss Johnstone (afterwards Mrs. Wester- 
man) in two old maids. 

Now pray get us a full light on all other names and 
localities that are adumbrated in this said Shirley, When 
some of the prominent characters will be recognised by 
every one who knows our quarters, there can be no harm 
in letting one know who may be intended by the rest. 
And, if necessary, I will bear Currer Bell harmless, and 
not let the world know that I have my intelligence from 
head-quarters. As I said before, I repeat now, that as I 
or mine are part of the stock-in-trade, I think I have an 
equitable claim to this intelligence, by way of my dividend. 
Mary and Harriet wish also to get at this information; 
and the latter at all events seems to have her own peculiar 
claim, as fame says she is '' in the book " too. One had 
need "" walk . . . warily in these dangerous days," when, as 
Burns (is it not he.^) says — 

*' A cheild's among you taking notes, 
And faith he'U prent it." — 

Yours sincerely, W. M. Heald. 

Mary and Harriet unite with me in the best wishes of 

the season to you and C B . Pray give my best 

respects to Mr. Bronte also, who may have some slight 
remembrance of me as a child. I just remember him 
when at Hartshead. 

TO W. S. WILLIAMS 

February 2nd, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — I have despatched to-day a parcel 
containing The Caxtons, Macaulay's Essays, Humboldt's 
Letters, and such other of the books as I have read, packed 

417 o 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

with a picturesque irregularity well calculated to excite 
the envy and admiration of your skilful functionary in 
Cornhill. By-the-bye^ he ought to be careful of the few 
pins stuck in here and there^ as he might find them useful 
at a future day, in case of having more bonnets to pack 
for the East Indies. Whenever you send me a new supply 
of books, may I request that you will have the goodness 
to include one or two of Miss Austen's. I am often asked 
whether I have read them, and I excite amazement by 
replying in the negative. I have read none except Pride 
and Prejudice. Miss Martineau mentioned Persuasion 
as the best. 

Thank you for your account of the First Performance. 
It was cheering and pleasant to read it, for in your ani- 
mated description I seemed to realise the scene; your 
criticism also enables me to form some idea of the play. 
Lewes is a strange being. I always regret that I did not 
see him when in London. He seems to me clever, sharp^ 
and coarse; I used to think him sagacious, but I believe 
now he is no more than shrewd, for I have observed once 
or twice that he brings forward as grand discoveries of his 
own, information he has casually received from others — • 
true sagacity disdains little tricks of this sort. But though 
Lewes has many smart and some deserving points about 
him, he has nothing truly great ; and nothing truly great^ 
I should think, will he ever produce. Yet he merits just 
such successes as the one you describe — triumphs public, 
brief, and noisy. Notoriety suits Lewes. Fame — were 
it possible that he could achieve her — would be a thing 
uncongenial to him: he could not wait for the solemn 
blast of her trumpet, sounding long, and slowly waxing 
louder. 

I always like your way of mentioning Mr. Smith, because 
my own opinion of him concurs with yours; and it is as 
pleasant to have a favourable impression of character con- 
firmed, as it is painful to see it dispelled. I am sure he 
possesses a fine nature, and I trust the selfishness of the 
world and the hard habits of business, though they may 
and must modify his disposition, will never quite spoil it. 

418 



Literary Friendships 

Can you give me any information respecting Sheridan 
Knowles? A few lines received from him lately, and a 
present of his George Lovel, induce me to ask the question. 
Of course I am aware that he is a dramatic \\Titer of 
eminence, but do you know anything about him as a man ? 

I believe both Shirley and Jane Eyre are being a good 
deal read in the North just now; but I only hear fitful 
rumours from time to time. I ask nothing, and my life of 
anchorite seclusion shuts out all bearers of tidings. One 
or two curiosity-hunters have made their way to Haworth 
Parsonage, but our rude hills and rugged neighbourhood 
will, I doubt not, form a sufficient barrier to the frequent 
repetition of such visits. — Believe me, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

The most permanent friend among the '* curiosity- 
hunters/' w^as Sir James Kay-Shuttleworth,i who came 
a month later to Haworth. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

March ist, 1850. 

Dear Ellen, — I scribble you a line in haste to tell you 
of my proceedings. Various folks are beginning to come 
boring to Haworth, on the wise errand of seeing the 
scenery- described in Jafie Eyre and Shirley; amongst 
others, Sir J. K. Shuttleworth and Lady S. have persisted 
in coming; they were here on Friday. The baronet looks 
in vigorous health; he scarcely appears more than thirty- 
five, but he says he is forty-four. Lady Shuttleworth is 
rather handsome, and still young. They were both quite 
unpretending. When here they again urged me to visit 
them. Papa took their side at once — would not hear of 
my refusing. I must go — this left me without plea or 
defence. I consented to go for three days. They wanted 

1 Sir James Kay-Shuttleworth ( 1 804-1 877) . A doctor of medicine, 
who was made a baronet in 1849, on resigning the secretaryship 
of the Committee of Council on Education; assumed the name of 
Shuttleworth on his marriage, in 1S42, to Janet, the only child and 
heiress of Robert Shuttleworth of Gawthorpe Hall, Burnley (died 
1872). His son, the present baronet, is the Right Hon. Sir Ughtred 
James Kay-Shuttleworth. 

419 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

me to return \\dth them in the carriage^ but I pleaded off 
till to-morrow. I wish it was well over. 

If all be well I shall be able to \vrite more about them 
when I come back. Sir J. is very courtly — fine-looking; 
I wish he may be as sincere as he is poHshed. — In haste. 
yours faithfully, C. B. 



TO W. S. WILLIMIS 

March i6th, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — I found your letter with several others 
awaiting me on my return home from a brief stay in 
Lancashire. The mourning border alarmed me much. I 
feared that dread visitant, before whose coming every 
household trembles, had invaded your hearth and taken 
from you perhaps a child, perhaps something dearer still. 
The loss you have actually sustained is painful, but so 
much less painful than what I had anticipated, that to 
read your letter was to be greatly relieved. Still, I know 
what Mrs. Williams will feel. We can have but one father, 
but one mother, and when either is gone, we have lost 
what can never be replaced. Offer her, under this afflic- 
tion, my sincere sympathy. I can well imagine the cloud 
these sad tidings would cast over your young cheerful 
family. Poor little Dick's exclamation and burst of grief 
are most naive and natural ; he felt the sorrow of a child — 
a keen, but, happily, a transient pang. Time will, I trust, 
ere lonsf restore your own and vour wife's serenitv and 
your children's cheerfulness. 

I mentioned, I think, that we had one or two visitors at 
Ha worth lately; amongst them were Sir James Kay- 
Shuttleworth and his lady. Before departing they exacted 
a promise that I would visit them at Gawthorpe Hall, 
their residence on the borders of East Lancashire. I went 
reluctantly, for it is always a difficult and painful thing 
to me to meet the advances of people whose kindness I 
am in no position to repay. Sir James is a man of polished 
manners, with clear intellect and highly cultivated mind. 
On the whole, I got on very well with him. His health 

420 



Literary Friendships 

is just now somewhat broken by his severe official labours; 
and the quiet drives to old ruins and old halls situate 
amongst older hills and woods^ the dialogues (perhaps I 
should rather say monologues^ for I hstened far more than 
I talked) by the fireside in his antique oak-panelled 
dra^^-ing-room, while they suited him, did not too much 
oppress and exhaust me. The house^ toO; is ver\' much to 
my taste^ near three centuries old, grey^ stately, and 
picturesque. On the whole, now that the visit is over, 
I do not regret having paid it. The worst of it is that 
there is now some menace hanging over my head of an 
invitation to go to them in London during the season — 
this, which would doubtless be a great enjo^mient to some 
people, is a perfect terror to me. I should highly prize the 
advantages to be gained in an extended range of observa- 
tion, but I tremble at the thought of the price I must 
necessarily pay in mental distress and physical wear and 
tear. But you shall have no more of my confessions — 
to you they will appear folly. — Yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

March igih, 1850. 

Dear Ellen, — I have got home again, and now that the 
visit is over. I am, as usual, glad I have been; not that I 
could have endured to prolong it: a few days at once, in 
an utterlv strans^e place, amon2:5t utter Iv strans^e faces. 
is quite enough for me. 

When the train stopped at Burnley, I found Sir James 
waitino: for me. A drive of about three miles brous^ht us 
to the gates of Gawthorpe, and after passing up a some- 
what desolate avenue, there towered the hall — srev, 
antique, castellated, and stately — before me. It is 250 
years old, and, wdthin as \\ithout, is a model of old Ens:- 
iish architecture. The arms and the strange crest of the 
Shuttleworths are carved on the oak pannelling of each 
room. They are not a parvenue family, but date from 
the days of Richard III. This part of Lancashire seems 

421 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

rather remarkable for its houses of ancient race. The 
Townleys, who Hve near, go back to the Conquest. 

The people, however, were of still more interest to me 
than the house. Lady Shuttleworth is a little woman, 
thirty-two years old, with a pretty, smooth, lively face. 
Of pretension to aristocratic airs she may be entirely 
acquitted; of frankness, good-humour, and activity she 
has enough ; truth obliges me to add, that, as it seems to 
me, grace, dignity, fine feeling were not in the inventory 
of her qualities. These last are precisely what her husband 
possesses. In manner he can be gracious and dignified; 
his tastes and feelings are capable of elevation; frank 
he is not, but, on the contrary, politic; he calls himself a 
man of the world and knows the world's ways ; courtly and 
affable in some points of view, he is strict and rigorous in 
others. In him high mental cultivation is combined with 
an extended range of observation, and thoroughly practical 
views and habits. His nerves are naturally acutely sensi- 
tive, and the present very critical state of his health has 
exaggerated sensitiveness into irritability. His wife is of 
a temperament precisely suited to nurse him and wait on 
him: if her sensations were more deUcate and acute she 
would not do half so well. They get on perfectly together. 
The children — there are four of them — are all fine children 
in their way. They have a young German lady as 
governess — a quiet, well-instructed, interesting girl, whom 
I took to at once, and, in my heart, liked better than 
anything else in the house. She also instinctively took to 
me. She is very well treated for a governess, but wore the 
usual pale, despondent look of her class. She told me she 
was home-sick, and she looked so. 

I have received the parcel containing the cushion and all 
the etcetera, for which I thank you very much. I suppose 
I must begin with the group of flowers; I don't know how 
I shall manage it, but I shall try. I have a good number 
of letters to answer — from Mr. Smith, from Mr. Williams, 
from Thornton Hunt, Lsetitia Wheelwright, Harriet Dyson 
— and so I must bid you good-bye for the present. Write 
to me soon. The brief absence from home, though in some 

422 



Literary Friendships 

respects trying and painful in itself^ has, I think^ given me 
a little better tone of spirit. All through this month of 
February I have had a crushing time of it. I could not 
escape from or rise above certain most mournful recol- 
lections — the last few days, the sufferings^ the remembered 
words, most sorrowful to me, of those who^ Faith assures 
me^ are now happy. At evening and bed-time such 
thoughts would haunt me^ bringing a weary headache. 
Good-bye^ dear Xell. — Yours faithfully, C. B. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May 2ist. 1850. 

Dear Ellen, — My visit is again postponed. Sir James 
Shuttleworth, I am sorry to say, is most seriously ill. Two 
physicians are in attendance twice a day, and company 
and conversation, even with his own relatives, are pro- 
hibited as too exciting. Notwithstanding this, he has 
\^Titten two notes to me himself, claiming a promise that 
I will wait till he is better, and not allow any one else 
" to introduce me " as he says, '' into the Oceanic life of 
London." Sincerely sorry as I was for him, I could not 
help smiling at this sentence. But I shall willingly 
promise. I know something of him, and like part, at 
least, of what I do know. I do not feel in the least 
tempted to change him for another. His sufferings are 
very great. I trust and hope God will be pleased to spare 
his mind. I have just got a note informing me that he is 
something better; but, of course, he will vary. Lady 
Shuttleworth is much, much to be pitied too; his nights, 
it seems, are most distressing. — Good-bye, dear Nell. 
Write soon to C. B. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

76 Gloucester Terrace, 
Hyde Park Gardens, June yd, 1850. 

Dear Ellen, — I came to London last Thursday. I am 
sta}dng at Mrs. Smith's, who has changed her residence, as 
the address will show. A good deal of \\Titing backwards 

423 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

and forwards, persuasion, etc., took place before this step 
was resolved on; but at last I explained to Sir James that 
I had some little matters of business to transact, and that 
I should stay quietly at my publisher's. He has called 
twice, and Lady Shuttleworth once; each of them alone. 
He is in a fearfully nervous state. To my great horror he 
talks of my going with them to Hampton Court, Windsor, 
etc. God knows how I shall get on. I perfectly dread it. 
Here I feel very comfortable. Mrs. Smith treats me 
with a serene, equable kindness which just suits me. Her 
son is, as before, genial and kindly. I have seen very few 
persons, and am not likely to see many, as the agreement 
was that I was to be very quiet. We have been to the 
Exhibition of the Royal Academy, to the Opera, and the 
Zoological Gardens. The weather is splendid. I shall 
not stay longer than a fortnight in London. The feverish- 
ness and exhaustion beset me somewhat, but not quite so 
badly as before, as indeed I have not yet been so much 
tried. I hope you will write soon and tell me how you are 
getting on. Give my regards to all. — Yours faithfully, 

C. B. 

TO REV. P. BRONTE 

76 Gloucester Terrace, 
Hyde Park Gardens, June 4th, 1850. 

Dear Papa, — I was very glad to get your letter this 
morning, and still more glad to learn that your health 
continues in some degree to improve. I fear you will feel 
the present weather somewhat debilitating, at least if it 
is as warm in Yorkshire as in London. I cannot help 
grudging these fine days on account of the roofing of the 
house. It is a great pity the workmen were not prepared 
to begin a week ago. 

Since I wrote I have been to the Opera; to the Ex- 
hibition of the Royal Academy, where there were some 
fine paintings, especially a large one by Landseer of the 
Duke of Wellington on the field of Waterloo, and a grand, 
wonderful picture of Martin's from Campbell's poem of 
the " Last Man," showing the red sun fading out of the 

424 



Literary Friendships 

sky, and all the soil of the foreground made up of bones 
and skulls. The secretary of the Zoological Society also 
sent me an honorary ticket of admission to their gardens^ 
which I wish you could see. There are animals from all 
parts of the world inclosed in great cages in the open air 
amongst trees and shrubs — lions^ tigers, leopards^ elephants^ 
numberless monkies, camels, five or six cameleopards, a 
young hippopotamus with an Egyptian for its keeper; 
birds of all kinds — eagles, ostriches, a pair of great condors 
from the Andes, strange ducks and water-fowl which seem 
very happy and comfortable, and build their nests amongst 
the reeds and sedges of the lakes where they are kept. 
Some of the American birds make inexpressible noises. 

There are also all sorts of living snakes and lizards in 
cages, some great Ceylon toads not much smaller than 
Flossy, some large foreign rats nearly as large and fierce as 
little bull-dogs. The most ferocious and deadly-looking 
things in the place were these rats, a laughing hyena 
(which every now and then uttered a hideous peal of 
laughter such as a score of maniacs might produce) and a 
cobra di capello snake. I think this snake was the worst 
of all: it had the eyes and face of a fiend, and darted out 
its barbed tongue sharply and incessantly. 

I am glad to hear that Tabby and Martha are pretty 
well. Remember me to them, and — Believe me, dear 
papa, your affectionate daughter, C. Bronte. 

I hope you don't care for the notice in Sharpens Magazine; 
it does not disturb me in the least. Mr. Smith says it is of 
no consequence whatever in a literary sense. Sharpe, the 
proprietor, w^as an apprentice of Mr. Smith's father. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

76 Gloucester Terrace, 
Hyde Park Gardens, June 215^, 1850. 

Dear Ellen, — I am leaving London, if all be well, on 
Tuesday, and shall be very glad to come to you for a few 
days, if that arrangement still remains convenient to you. 
I intend to start at nine o'clock a.m. by the express train, 

425 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

which arrives in Leeds thirty-five minutes past two. I 
should then be at Batley about four in the afternoon. 
Would that suit? 

My London visit has much surpassed my expectations 
this time; I have suffered less and enjoyed more than 
before. Rather a trying termination yet remains to me. 
Mrs. Smith's youngest son is at school in Scotland^ and 
George, her eldest, is going to fetch him home for the 
vacation. The other evening he announced his intention 
of taking one of his sisters with him, and proposed that 
Miss Bronte should go down to Edinburgh and join them 
there, and see that city and its suburbs. I concluded he 
was joking, laughed and declined; however, it seems he 
was in earnest. The thing appearing to me perfectly out 
of the question, I still refused. Mrs. Smith did not favour 
it; you may easily fancy how she helped me to sustain my 
opposition, but her worthy son only waxed more deter- 
mined. His mother is master of the house, but he is 
master of his mother. This morning she came and en- 
treated me to go. '' George wished it so much "; he had 
begged her to use her influence, etc., etc. Now I believe 
that George and I understand each other very well, and 
respect each other very sincerely. We both know the 
wide breach time has made between us; we do not 
embarrass each other, or very rarely; my six or eight 
years of seniority, to say nothing of lack of all pretension 
to beauty, etc., are a perfect safeguard. I should not in 
the least fear to go with him to China. I hke to see him 
pleased, I greatly ^z^like to ruffle and disappoint him, so 
he shall have his mind; and if all be well, I mean to join 
him in Edinburgh after I shall have spent a few days with 
you. With his buoyant animal spirits and youthful 
vigour he will make severe demands on my muscles and 
nerves, but I daresay I shall get through somehow, and 
then perhaps come back to rest a few days with you before 
I go home. With kind regards to all at Brookroyd, your 
guests included, — I am, dear Ellen, yours faithfully, 

C. Bronte. 

Write by return of post. 

426 



Literary Friendships 



TO MISS LiETITIA WHEELWRIGHT 

Haworth^ July ^othy 1850. 

My dear LiETiTiA^ — I promised to write to you when I 
should have returned home. Returned home I am^ but 
you may conceive that many, many matters soUcit atten- 
tion and demand arrangement in a house which has lately 
been turned topsy-turvy in the operation of unroofing. 
Drawers and cupboards must wait a moment^ however, 
while I fulfil my promise, though it is imperatively neces- 
sary that this fulfilment should be achieved with brevity. 

My stay in Scotland was short, and what I saw was 
chiefly comprised in Edinburgh and the neighbourhood, 
in Abbotsford and Melrose, for I was obliged to relinquish 
my first intention of going from^ Glasgow to Oban and 
thence through a portion of the Highlands. But though 
the time was brief, and the \dew of objects limited, I 
found such a charm of situation, association, and circum- 
stances that I think the enjo^-ment experienced in that 
little space equalled in degree and excelled in kind all 
which London yielded during a month's sojourn. Edin- 
burgh compared to London is like a vivid page of history- 
compared to a huge dull treatise on political economy: 
and as to Melrose and Abbotsford, the verv' names possess 
music and magic. 

I am thankful to say that on my return home I found 
papa pretty well. Full often had I thought of him when 
I was far away; and deeply sad as it is on many accounts 
to come back to this old house, yet I was glad to be with 
him once more. 

You were proposing, I remember, to go into the country; 
I trust you are there now and enjoying this fine day in 
some scene where the air will not be tainted, nor the sun- 
shine dimmed, by London smoke. If your papa, mamma, 
or any of your sisters are within reach, give them my 
kindest remembrances — if not, save such remembrances 
till you see them. — Believe me, my dear Lsetitia, yours 
hurriedly, but faithfully, C. Bronte. 

427 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

TO REV. P. BRONTE 

Ambleside, December 21st, 1850. 

Dear Papa, — I think I shall not come home till Thurs- 
day. If all be well I shall leave here on Monday and 
spend a day or two with Ellen Nussey. I have enjoyed 
my visit exceedingly. Sir J. K. Shuttleworth has called 
several times and taken me out in his carriage. He seems 
very truly friendly; but, I am sorry to say, he looks pale 
and very much wasted. I greatly fear he will not live 
very long unless some change for the better soon takes 
place. Lady S. is ill too, and cannot go out. I have seen 
a good deal of Dr. Arnold's family, and like them much. 
As to Miss Martineau, I admire her and wonder at her 
more than I say can. Her powers of labour, of exercise, 
and social cheerfulness are beyond my comprehension. In 
spite of the unceasing activity of her colossal intellect she 
enjoys robust health. She is a taller, larger, and more 
strongly made woman than I had imagined from that 
first interview with her. She is very kind to me, though 
she must think I am a very insignificant person compared 
to herself. She has just been into the room to show me 
a chapter of her history which she is now writing, relating 
to the Duke of Wellington's character and his proceedings 
in the Peninsula. She wanted an opinion on it, and I was 
happy to be able to give a very approving one. She seems 
to understand and do him justice. 

You must not direct any more letters here as they will 
not reach me after to-day. Hoping, dear papa, that you 
are well, and with kind regards to Tabby and Martha, — 
I am, your affectionate daughter, C. Bronte. 

TO W, S. WILLIAMS 

October 2nd, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — I have to thank you for the care and 
kindness with which you have assisted me throughout in 
correcting these Remains. 

Whether, when they are published, they will appear to 

428 



Literary Friendships 

others as they do to me, I cannot tell. I hope not. And 
indeed I suppose what to me is bitter pain will only be 
soft pathos to the general pubUc. 

Miss Martineau has several times lately asked me to go 
and see her; and though this is a dreary season for travel- 
ling northward, I think if papa continues pretty well I 
shall go in a week or two. I feel to my deep sorrow, to 
my humiliation, that it is not in my power to bear the 
canker of constant solitude. I had calculated that when 
shut out from every enjoyment, from every stimulus but 
what could be derived from intellectual exertion, my mind 
would rouse itself perforce. It is not so. Even intellect, 
even imagination, will not dispense with the ray of 
domestic cheerfulness, with the gentle spur of family 
discussion. Late in the evenings, and all through the 
nights, I fall into a condition of mind which turns entirely 
to the past — to memory; and memory is both sad and 
relentless. This will never do, and will produce no good. 
I tell you this that you may check false anticipations. 
You cannot help me, and must not trouble yourself in any 
shape to sympathise with me. It is my cup, and I must 
drink it, as others drink theirs. — Yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

Among Miss Bronte's papers I find the following letter 
to Miss Martineau, written with a not unnatural resent 
ment after the publication of a severe critique of Shirley, 

TO MISS HARRIET MARTINEAU 

My dear Miss Martineau, — I think I best show my 
sense of the tone and feeling of your last, by immediate 
compliance with the wish you express that I should send 
your letter. I inclose it, and have marked with red ink 
the passage which struck me dumb. All the rest is fair, 
right, worthy of you, but I protest against this passage; 
and were I brought up before the bar of all the critics in 
England, to such a charge I should respond, *' Not guilty." 

I know what love is as I understand it; and if man or 
woman should be ashamed of feeling such love, then is 

429 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

there nothing right, noble, faithful^ truthful^ unselfish 
in this earthy as I comprehend rectitude, nobleness, 
fidelity^ truths and disinterestedness. — Yours sincerely, 

C. B. 
To differ from you gives me keen pain. 

TO JAMES TAYLOR, Cornhill 

November 6th, 1850. 

My dear Sir, — Mrs. Arnold seemed an amiable, and 
must once have been a very prett\^, woman; her daughter 
I Uked much. There was present also a son of Chevalier 
Bunsen, with his wife, or rather bride. I had not then 
read Dr. Arnold's Life — other^ase, the visit would have 
interested me even more than it actually did. 

Mr. Williams told me (if I mistake not) that you had 
recently visited the Lake Country. I trust you enjoyed 
your excursion, and that our English Lakes did not suffer 
too much by comparison in your memory with the Scottish 
Lochs. — I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely, 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ambleside, December, 21st, 1850. 

Dear Ellen, — I have managed to get off going to Sir J. 
K. Shuttleworth's by a promise to come some other time. 
I thought I really should like to spend two or three days 
with you before going home; therefore, if it is not incon- 
venient for you, I will come on Monday and stay till 
Thursday. I shall be at Bradford (d.v.) at ten minutes 
past two, Monday afternoon, and can take a cab at the 
station forward to Birstall. I have truly enjoyed my 
visit. I have seen a good many people, and all have 
been so marvellously kind : not the least so the family of 
Dr. Arnold. Miss Martineau I rehsh inexpressibly. Sir 
James has been almost ever}- day to take me a drive. I 
begin to admit in my own mind that he is sincerely be- 
nignant to me. I grieve to say he looks to me as if wasting 

430 



Literary Friendships 

away. Lady Shuttleworth is ill. She cannot go out^ and 
I have not seen her. Till we meet^ good-bye. 

C. Bronte, 

It was during this visit to Ambleside that Charlotte 
Bronte and Matthew Arnold met. 

" At seven/' writes Mr. Arnold from Fox How (De- 
cember 21, 1850), "came Miss Martineau and Miss 
Bronte (Jane Eyre); talked to Miss Martineau (who 
blasphemes frightfully) about the prospects of the 
Church of England, and, wretched man that I am, 
promised to go and see her cow-keeping miracles 1 to- 
morrow — I, who hardly know a cow from a sheep. I 
talked to Miss Bronte (past thirty and plain, with ex- 
pressive grey eyes, though) of her curates, of French 
novels, and her education in a school at Brussels, and 
sent the lions roaring to their dens at half-past nine, 
and came to talk to you.'' 2 

By the light of this " impression," it is not a little 
interesting to see what Miss Bronte, '' past thirty and 
plain," thought of Mr. Matthew Arnold! 



TO JAMES TAYLOR, Cornhill 

January, i^th, 1851. 

My dear Sir, — I fancy the imperfect way in which my 
last note was expressed must have led you into an error, 
and that you must have applied to Mrs. Arnold the 
remarks I intended for Miss Martineau. I remember 
whilst writing about " my hostess " I was sensible to 
some obscurity in the term; permit me now to explain 
that it referred to Miss Martineau. 

Mrs. Arnold is, indeed, as I judge from my own obser- 
vations no less than from the unanimous testimony of all 
who really know her, a good and amiable woman, but the 
intellectual is not her forte, and she has no pretensions to 
power or completeness of character. The same remark, 
I think, applies to her daughters. You admire in them 
the kindliest feeling towards each other and their fellow- 

^ Some experiments on a farm of two acres. 
^ Letters of Matthew Arnold, collected and arranged by George 
W\ E. Russell. 

431 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

creatures, and they offer in their home circle a beautiful 
example of family unity, and of that refinement which is 
sure to spring thence; but when the conversation turns 
on literature or any subject that offers a test for the in- 
tellect, you usually felt that their opinions were rather 
imitative than original, rather sentimental than sound. 
Those who have only seen Mrs. Arnold once will neces- 
sarily, I think, judge of her unfavourably; her manner 
on introduction disappointed me sensibly, as lacking that 
genuineness and simplicity one seemed to have a right to 
expect in the chosen life-companion of Dr. Arnold. Or 
my remarking as much to Mrs. Gaskell and Sir J. K. 
Shuttleworth, I was told for my consolation it was a 
" conventional manner,'' but that it vanished on closer 
acquaintance; fortimately this last assurance proved 
true. It is observable that Matthew Arnold, the eldest 
son, and the author of the volume of poems to which you 
allude, inherits his mother's defect. Striking and pre- 
possessing in appearance, his manner displeases from its 
seeming foppery. I o\^ti it caused me at first to regard 
him with regretful sinprise; the shade of Dr. Arnold 
seemed to me to frown on his young representative. I 
was told, however, that '' Mr. Arnold improved upon 
acquaintance." So it was: ere long a real modesty 
appeared under his assumed conceit, and some genuine 
intellectual aspirations, as well as high educational 
acquirements, displaced superficial affectations. I was 
given to understand that his theological opinions were 
very vague and unsettled, and indeed he betrayed as much 
in the course of conversation. Most unfortunate for him, 
doubtless, has been the untimely loss of his father. 

My visit to Westmoreland has certainly done me good. 
Physically, I was not ill before I went there, but my mind 
had undergone some painful laceration. In the course of 
looking over my sister's papers, mementos, and memo- 
randa, that would have been nothing to others, conveyed 
for me so keen a sting. Near at hand there was no means 
of lightening or effacing the sad impression by refreshing 
social intercourse; from my father, of course, my sole 

432 



Literary Friendships 

care was to conceal it — age demanding the same for- 
bearance as infancy in the communication of grief. Con- 
tinuous solitude grew more than I could bear^ and^ to- 
speak truths I was glad of a change. You will say that 
we ought to have power in ourselves either to bear circum- 
stances or to bend them. True^ we should do our best 
to this end, but som^etimes our best is unavailing. How- 
ever^ I am better now^ and most thankful for the respite. 

The interest you so kindly express in my sister's works- 
touches me home. Thank you for it, especially as I do 
not beheve you would speak otherv\'ise than sincerely. 
The only notices that I have seen of the new edition of 
Wuthering Heights were those in the Exajmner, the Leader. 
and the Athenceiwi. That in the Athenceum somehow 
gave mxe pleasure : it is quiet but respectful — so I thought, 
at least. 

You asked whether Miss Martineau made me a convert 
to mesmerism.^ Scarcely; yet I heard miracles of its 
efiicacv and could hardlv discredit the whole of what was 
told me. I even underwent a personal experiment; and 
though the result was not absolutely clear^ it was inferred 
that in time I should prove an excellent subject. 

The question of mesmerism will be discussed with little 
reserve^, I believe, in a forthcoming work of MissMartineau's 
and I have some painful anticipations of the m^anner in 
which other subjects^ offering less legitimate ground for 
speculation^ will be handled. 

You mention the Leader ; what do vou think of it? I 
have been asked to contribute; but though I respect the 
spirit of fairness and courtesy in which it is on the whole 
conducted, its principles on some points are such that I 
have hitherto shrunk from the thought of seeing my name 
in its columns. 

Thanking you for your good wishes^ — I am, my dear sir^ 
yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 



433 



The Brontes and Their Circle 



TO MISS L.ETITIA WHEEL\\^IGHT 

Haworth^ January 12th, 1851. 

Dear LiEXiTiA^ — A spare moment must and shall be 
made for you, no matter how many letters I have to write 
(and just now there is an influx). In reply to your kind 
inquiries, I have to say that my stay in London and 
excursion to Scotland did me good — much good at the 
time; but my health was again somewhat sharply tried 
at the close of autumn, and I lost in some days of in- 
disposition the additional flesh and strength I had pre- 
viously gained. This resulted from the painful task of 
looking over letters and papers belonging to my sisters. 
Many little mementos and memoranda conspired to make 
an impression inexpressibly sad, which solitude deepened 
and fostered till I grew ill. A brief trip to Westmoreland 
has, hovv-ever, I am thankful to say, revived me again, 
and the circumstances of papa being just now in good 
health and spirits gives me many causes for gratitude. 
When we have but one precious thing Jeft we think much 
of it. 

I have been staying a short time with Miss Martineau. 
As you may imagine, the visit proved one of no common 
interest. She is certainly a woman of wonderful endow- 
ments, both intellectual and physical, and though I share 
few of her opinions, and regard her as fallible on certain 
points of judgment, I must still accord her my sincerest 
esteem. The manner in which she combines the highest 
mental culture with the nicest discharge of feminine 
duties filled me with admiration, while her affectionate 
kindness earned my gratitude. 

Your description of the magician Paxton's crystal 
palace is quite graphic. Whether I shall see it or not I 
don't know. London will be so dreadfully crowded and 
busy this season, I feel a dread of going there. 

Compelled to break off, I have only time to offer my 
kindest remembrances to your whole circle, and my love 
to yourself. — Yours ever, C. Bronte. 

434 



Literary Friendships 

TO REV. p. BRONTE 

112 Gloucester Terrace^ Hyde Park, 
London^ June ijth, 1851. 

Dear Papa, — I write a line in haste to tell you that I 
find they will not let me leave London till next Tuesday; 
and as I have promised to spend a day or two with Mrs. 
Gaskell on my way home, it will probably be Friday or 
Saturday in next week before I return to Haworth. 
Martha will thus have a few days more time^ and must 
not hurry or overwork herself. Yesterday I saw Cardinal 
Wiseman and heard him speak. It was at a meeting for 
the Roman Catholic Society of St. Vincent de Paul: the 
Cardinal presided. He is a big portly man something of 
the shape of Mr. Morgan; he has not merely a double but 
a treble and quadruple chin; he has a very large mouth 
with oily lips, and looks as if he would relish a good dinner 
with a bottle of wine after it. He came swimming into the 
room smiiling^ simpering, and bowing like a fat old lady, 
and sat down very demure in his chair and looked the 
picture of a sleek h^-pocrite. He was dressed in black 
like a bishop or dean in plain clothes, but wore scarlet 
gloves and a brilliant scarlet waistcoat. A bevy of inferior 
priests surrounded him, many of them very dark-looking 
and sinister men. The Cardinal spoke in a smooth whin- 
ing manner, just like a canting Methodist preacher. The 
audience seemed to look up to him as to a god. A spirit 
of the hottest zeal pervaded the whole meeting. I was 
told afterguards that except myself and the person who 
accompanied me there was not a single Protestant present. 
All the speeches turned on the necessity of straining every 
nerve to make converts to popery. It is in such a scene 
that one feels what the Catholics are doing. Most per- 
severing and enthusiastic are they in their work! Let 
Protestants look to it. It cheered me much to hear that 
you continue pretty well. Take every care of yourself. 
Remember me kindly to Tabby and Martha, also to Mr. 
Nicholls, and — Beheve me, dear papa, your affectionate 
daughter, C. Bronte. 

435 



The Brontes and Their Circle 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

June igthj 185 1. 

Dear Ellen. — I shall have to stay in London a few 
days longer than I intended. Sir J. K. Shuttleworth has 
found out that I am here. I have some trouble in wardins: 
o5 his wish that I should go directly to his house and take 
up my quarters there, but Mrs. Smith helped me. and I got 
ofi ^ith promising to spend a day. I am engaged to 
spend a day or two with Mrs. Gaskell on my way home, 
and could not put her off. as she is going av.-ay for a portion 
of the summer. Lady Shuttleworth looks very deUcate. 
Papa is now very desirous I should c: me home ; and when 
I have as quickly as possible paid my debts of engagements, 
home I must go. Next Tuesday I go to Manchester for 
two days. C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

112 Gloucester Terrace, 
Hyde Park, Ju7ie 24th, 1851. 

Dear Ellen, — I cannot now leave London till Friday. 
To-morrow is Mr. Smith's only holiday. Mr. Taylor's 
departure leaves him loaded with work. More than once 
since I came he has been kept in the city till three in the 
morning. He wants to take us all to Richmond, and I 
promised last week I would stay and go with him, his 
mother, and sisters. I go to Mrs. Gaskell's on Friday. — 
Believe me, yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

TO REV. P. BRONTE, H.\w'orth, Yorks 
112 Gloucester Terrace, Jufte 26ih, 1851. 

Dear Papa, — I have not yet been able to get away 
from London, but if all be well I shall go to-morrow, stay 
tw^o days with Mrs. Gaskell at Manchester, and return 
home on Monday 30th witlwiitfail. During this last week 
or ten days I have seen many things, some of them very 
interesting, and have also been in much better health 

436 



Literary Friendships 

than I was during the first fortnight of my stay in London. 
Sir James and Lady Shuttleworth have really been very 
kind^ and most scrupulously attentive. They desire 
their regards to you^ and send all manner of civil messages. 
The Marquis of Westminster and the Earl of Ellesmere 
each sent me an order to see their private collection of 
pictures, which I enjoyed very much. Mr. Rogers, the 
patriarch-poet, now eighty-seven years old, invited me 
to breakfast with him. His breakfasts, you must under- 
stand, are celebrated throughout Europe for their peculiar 
refinement and taste. He never admits at that meal 
more than four persons to his table: himself and three 
guests. The morning I was there I met Lord Glenelg and 
Mrs. Davenport, a relation of Lady Shuttleworth' s, and 
a very beautiful and fashionable woman. The visit was 
very interesting; I was glad that I had paid it after it was 
over. An attention that pleased and surprised me more 
I think than any other was the circumstance of Sir David 
Brewster, who is one of the first scientific men of his day, 
coming to take me over the Crystal Palace and pointing 
out and explaining the most remarkable curiosities. You 
will know, dear papa, that I do not mention those things 
to boast of them, but merely because I think they will 
give you pleasure. Nobody, I find, thinks the worse of 
me for avoiding publicity and declining to go to large 
parties, and everybody seems truly courteous and respect- 
ful, a mode of behaviour which makes me grateful, as 
it ought to do. Good-bye till Monday. Give my best 
regards to Mr. Nicholls, Tabby, and Martha, and — 
BeHeve me your affectionate daughter, C. Bronte. 



437 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE REV. ARTHUR BELL NICHOLLS 

Without the kindly assistance of Mr. Arthur Bell 
Nicholls, this book could not have been written, and I 
might therefore be supposed to guide my pen with 
appalling discretion in treating of the married life of 
Charlotte Bronte. There are, however, no painful 
secrets to reveal, no skeletons to lay bare. Mr. Nicholls's 
story is a very simple one ; and that it is entirely credit- 
able to him, there is abundant evidence. Amid the full 
discussion to which the lives of the Brontes have neces- 
sarily been subjected through their ever-continuous 
fame, it was perhaps inevitable that a contrary opinion 
should gain ground. Many of Mr. Nicholls' s relatives 
in his own country have frequently sighed over the per- 
verted statements which have obtained currency. ** It 
is cruel that your uncle Arthur, the best of men, as we 
know, should be thus treated,'* was the comment of Mr. 
Nicholls' s brother to his daughter after reading an 
unfriendly article concerning Charlotte's husband. Yet 
it was not unnatural that such an estimate should get 
abroad; and I may frankly admit that until I met Mr. 
Nicholls I believed that Charlotte Bronte's marriage had 
been an unhappy one — an opinion gathered partly from 
Mrs. Gaskell, partly from current tradition in Yorkshire. 
Mrs. Gaskell, in fact, did not like Mr. Nicholls, and there 
were those with whom she came in contact while writing 
Miss Bronte's Life who were eager to fan that feeling in 
the usually kindly biographer. Mr. Nicholls himself 
did not work in the direction of conciliation. He was, 
as we shall see, a Scotsman, and Scots taciturnity brought 
to bear upon the genial and jovial Yorkshire folk did not 
make for friendliness. Further, he would not let Mrs. 
Gaskell ''edit" and change The Professor, and .here 
also he did wdsely and well. He hated publicity, and 
above all things viewed the attempt to pierce the veil of 
his married life with almost morbid detestation. Who 
shall say that he was not right, and that his retirement 
for more than forty years from the whole region of con- 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

troversy has not abundantly justified itself? One at 
least of Miss Bronte's friends has been known in our 
day to complain bitterly of all the trouble to which 
she was subjected by the ill-considered zeal of Bronte 
enthusiasts. Mr. Nicholls escaped all this by a judi- 
cious silence. Now that fifty years and more have 
passed since his mfe's death, it cannot be inopportune 
to tell the public all that they can fairly ask to know. 

Mr. Nicholls was born in Co. Antrim in 1817, but of 
Scottish parents on both sides. He was left at the age 
of seven to the charge of an uncle — the Rev. Alan Bell — 
who was headmaster of the Royal School at Banagher, in 
King's Co. Mr. Nicholls afterwards entered Trinity 
College, Dublin, and it was thence that he went to 
Haworth, his first curacy. He succeeded a fellow 
countryman, Mr. Peter Augustus Smith, in 1844. The 
first impression we have of the new curate in Charlotte's 
letters is scarcely more favourable than that of his 
predecessors. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

October gth^ 1844. 

Dear Ellen^ — We are getting on here the same as 
usual, only that Branwell has been more than ordinarily 
troublesome and annoying of late; he leads papa a 
wretched life. Mr. Nicholls is returned just the same. I 
cannot for my hfe see those interesting germs of goodness 
in him you discovered; his narrowness of mind always 
strikes me chieflv. I fear he is indebted to vour imas^ina- 
tion for his hidden treasure. — Yours^ C. B. 

A recently discovered letter reveals an interesting 
glimpse of the new curate. 

TO MRS. RAND 

Haworth, May 26th. 

Dear Mrs. Rand, — I was much pleased to get your 
little note; only the day before I received it papa and I 
were saying we wondered you did not write, and I almost 
began to fear either you or Mr. Rand were ill. 

439 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

It must indeed have been a great charge to you to have 
had seventy scholars put under your care while you were as 
yet hardly recovered from the effects of your confinement. 
I do not doubt, however, that when you become quite 
strong you will discharge the duty without much 
difficulty. 

Mrs. Bacon too must have her hands full, having both 
baby and the house and cooking to attend to, while you 
are engaged in the school. I am glad to hear your little 
boy is still healthy and thriving. I should like much to 
see him. 

Papa has got a new Curate lately, a Mr. Nicholls from 
Ireland. He did duty for the first time on Sunday — he 
appears a respectable young man, reads well, and I hope 
will give satisfaction. I hear no complaints yet about 
the new school-master Mr. Purnell; but it does not 
appear that the number of children increases much — 
however, I think it is very well that it does not diminish — 
considering the unceasing opposition of the Methodists 
and Dissenters. 

I do hope you and Mr. Rand will not have so much 
opposition to contend with at Staley Bridge, and indeed, 
even if you should, as it appears that the church-people 
are both more numerous and more active than they are 
here, you will no doubt be better supported. 

With best regards to Mrs. Bacon, Mr. Rand, and a kiss 
for your dear little baby. — Believe me, my dear Mrs. 
Rand, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

Whenever you feel disposed to write, we shall always 
be happy to hear from you. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

July loth, 1846. 

Dear Ellen, — Who gravely asked you whether Miss 
Bronte was not going to be married to her papa's curate? 
I scarcely need say that never was rumour more unfounded. 
A cold far-away sort of civility are the only terms on which 
I have ever been with Mr. Nicholls. I could by no means 

440 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

think of mentioning such a rumour to him even as a joke. 
It would make me the laughing-stock of himself and his 
fellow curates for half a year to come. They regard me 
as an old maid^ and I regard them, one and all. as highly 
uninteresting, narrow, and unattractive specimens of the 
coarser sex. 

Write to me again soon, whether you have anything 
particular to say or not. Give my sincere love to your 
mother and sisters. C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

November I'jth, 1846. 

Dear Ellen, — I ^ill just write a brief despatch to say 
that I received yours and that I was very glad to get it. 
I do not know when vou have been so lons^ without ^^Titin2: 
to me before. I had begun to imagine you were gone to 
your brother Joshua's. 

Papa continues to do verv' well. He read prayers 
twice in the church last Sunday. Next Sunday he will 
have to take the whole duty of the three services himself, 
as Mr. Nicholls is in Ireland. Remember me to your 
mother and sisters. Write as soon as you possibly can 
after you get to Oundle. Good luck go with you. 

C. Bronte. . 

That Scots reticence held sway, and told against Mr 
Nicholls for many a day to come. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

October ']th, 1847. 

Dear Ellen, — I have been expecting you to write to 
me; but as you don't do it, and as, moreover, you may 
possibly think it is my turn, and not yours, though on 
that point I am far from clear, I shall just send you one 
of my scrubby notes for the express purpose of eliciting 
a reply. Anne was verv^ much pleased with your letter; 
I presume she has answered it before now. I would fain 
hope that her health is a little stronger than it was, and 

441 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

her spirits a little better^ but she leads much too sedentary 
a life, and is continually sitting stooping either over a book 
or over her desk. It is with difficulty we can prevail upon 
her to take a walk or induce her to converse. I look 
forw^ard to next summer with the confident intention that 
she shall, if possible, make at least a brief sojourn at the 
sea-side. 

I am sorry I inoculated you with fears about the east 
wind; I did not feel the last blast so severely as I have 
often done. My sympathies were much awakened by the 
touching anecdote. Did you salute your boy-messenger 
with a box on the ear the next time he came across you.^^ 
I think I should have been strongly tempted to have 
done as much. Mr. Nicholls is not yet returned. I am 
sorry to say that many of the parishioners express a desire 
that he should not trouble himself to recross the Channel. 
This is not the feeling that ought to exist between shepherd 
and flock. It is not such as is prevalent at Birstall. It 
is not such as poor Mr. Weightman excited. 

Give my best love to all of them, and — Believe me, 
yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

The next glimpse is more kindly. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

January 2^th, 1850. 

Dear Ellen, — I cannot but be concerned to hear of 
your mother's illness; write again soon, if it be but a hne, 
to tell me how she gets on. This shadow will, I trust 
and believe, be but a passing one, but it is a foretaste 
and warning of what 77iust come one day. Let it prepare 
your mind, dear Ellen, for that great trial which, if you 
live, it must in the course of a few years be your lot to 
undergo. That cutting asunder of the ties of nature is 
the pain we most dread and which we are most certain 
to experience. Lewes 's letter made me laugh: I cannot 
respect him more for it. Sir J. K. Shuttleworth's letter 
did not make me laugh; he has written again since. I 
have received to-day a note from Miss Alexander, daughter, 

442 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

she says, of Dr. Alexander. Do you know anything of 
her? Mary Taylor seems in good health and spirits, 
and in the way of doing well. I shall feel anxious to hear 
again soon. C. B. 

PS. — Mr. Nicholls has finished reading Shirley; he is 
delighted with it. John Brown's wife seriously thought 
he had gone wrong in the head as she heard him giving 
vent to roars of laughter as he sat alone, clapping his hands 
and stamping on the floor. He would read all the scenes 
about the curates aloud to Papa. He triumphed in his 
own character.^ What Mr. Grant will say is another 
thing. No matter. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, July 2jth, 1851. 

Dear Nell, — I hope you have taken no cold from your 
wretched journey home; you see you should have taken 
my advice and stayed till Saturday. Didn't I tell you 
I had a '^ presentiment " it would be better for you to 
do so ? 

I am glad you found your mother pretty well. Is she 
disposed to excuse the wretched petrified condition of the 
bilberry preserve, in consideration of the intent of the 

^ Mr. Nicholls was the Mr. Macarthey of Shirley. Here is the re- 
ference which not unnaturally gratified him: — " Perhaps I ought 
to remark that, on the premature and sudden vanishing of Mr. 
Malone from the stage of Briarfield parish . . . there came as his 
successor, another Irish curate, Mr. Macarthey. I am happy to 
be able to inform you, with truth, that this gentleman did as much 
credit to his country as Malone had done it discredit ; he proved him- 
self as decent, decorous, and conscientious, as Peter was rampant, 
boisterous, and — (this last epithet I choose to suppress, because 
it would let the cat out of the bag). He laboured faithfully in the 
parish ; the schools, both Sunday and day-schools, flourished under 
his sway like green bay-trees. Being human, of course he had his 
faults; these, however, were proper, steady-going, clerical faults: 
the circumstance of finding himself invited to tea with a dissenter 
would unhinge him for a week; the spectacle of a Quaker wearing 
his hat in the church, the thought of an unbaptised fellow-creature 
being interred with Christian rites — these things could make 
strange havoc in Mr. Macarthey's physical and mental economy; 
otherwise he was sane and rational, diUgent and charitable." — 
Shirley, oh. xxxvii. 

443 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

donor? It seems they had high company while you were 
away. You see what you lose by coming to Haworth. 
No events here since your departure except a long letter 
from Miss Martineau. (She did not write the article on 
" Woman " in the Westminster ; by the way^ it is the pro- 
duction of a man and one of the first philosophers and 
political economists and metaphysicians of the day.^) 
Item, the departure of Mr. Nicholls for Ireland, and his 
inviting himself on the eve thereof to come and take a 
farewell tea; good, mild, uncontentious. Item, a note 
from the stiff-like chap who called about the epitaph for 
his cousin. I inclose this — a finer gem in its way it would 
be difficult to conceive. You need not, however, be at the 
trouble of returning it. How are they at Hunsworth yet? 
It is no use saying whether I am solitary or not; I drive 
on very well, and papa continues pretty well. — Yours 
faithfully, C. Bronte. 

I print the next letter here because, although it con- 
tains no reference to Mr. Nicholls, it has a bearing upon 
the letter following it. Dr. Wheelwright shared Mr. 
Bronte's infirmity of defective eyesight. 



TO MISS LiETITIA WHEELWRIGHT 

Haworth, April i2thy 1852. 

Dear L^etitia, — Your last letter gave me much con- 
cern. I had hoped you were long ere this restored to 
your usual health, and it both pained and surprised me to 
hear that you still suffer so much from debility. I cannot 
help thinking your constitution is naturally sound and 
healthy. Can it be the air of London which disagrees 
with you? For myself, I struggled through the winter 
and the early part of spring often with great difficulty. 
My friend stayed with me a few days in the early part of 
January — she could not be spared longer. I was better 
during her visit, but had a relapse soon after she left me, 
which reduced my strength very much. It cannot be 

1 John Stuart Mill, who, however, attributed the authorship of 
this article to his wife. 

444 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

denied that the soHtude of my position fearfully aggravated 
its other evils. Some long, stormy days and nights there 
were when I felt such a craving for support and com- 
panionship as I cannot express. Sleepless, I lay awake 
night after night; weak and unable to occupy myself, I sat 
in my chair day after day, the saddest memories my only 
company. It was a time I shall never forget, but God 
sent it and it must have been for the best. 

I am better now, and very grateful do I feel for the 
restoration of tolerable health; but, as if there was always 
to be some affliction, papa, who enjoyed wonderful health 
during the whole winter, is ailing with his spring attack 
of bronchitis. I earnestly trust it may pass over in the 
comparatively ameliorated form in which it has hitherto 
shown itself. 

Let me not forget to answer your question about the 
cataract. Tell your papa my father was seventy at the 
time he underwent an operation; he was most reluctant 
to try the experiment — could not believe that at his age and 
with his want of robust strength it would succeed. I was 
obliged to be very decided in the matter and to act entirely 
on my own responsibility. Nearly six years have now 
elapsed since the cataract was extracted (it was not merely 
depressed). He has never once, during that time, re- 
gretted the step, and a day seldom passes that he does not 
express gratitude and pleasure at the restoration of that 
inestimable privilege of \dsion whose loss he once knew. 

I hope the next tidings you hear of your brother 
Charles will be satisfactory for his parents' and sisters' 
sake as well as his own. Your poor mamma has had many 
successive trials, and her uncomplaining resignation seems 
to offer us all an example worthy to be followed. Re- 
member me kindly to her, to youi papa, and all your 
circle, and — Believe me, with best wishes to yourself, 
yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 

TO REV. P. BRONTE, Haworth, Yorks 

Cliff House, Filey, June 2nd, 1852. 
Dear Papa, — Thank you for your letter, which I was 

445 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

so glad to get that I think I must answer it by return of 
post. I had expected one yesterday, and was perhaps a 
little unreasonably anxious when disappointed, but the 
weather has been so very cold that I feared either you were 
ill or Martha worse. I hope Martha will take care of 
herself. I cannot help feeling a little uneasy about her. 

On the whole I get on very well here, but I have not 
bathed yet as I am told it is much too cold and too early in 
the season. The sea is very grand. Yesterday it was a 
somewhat unusually high tide, and I stood about an hour 
on the cliffs yesterday afternoon watching the tumbling 
in of great tawny turbid waves, that made the whole shore 
white with foam and filled the air with a sound hollower 
and deeper than thunder. There are so very few visitors at 
Filey yet that I and a few sea-birds and fishing-boats have 
often the whole expanse of sea, shore, and cliff to ourselves. 
When the tide is out the sands are wide, long, and smooth, 
and very pleasant to walk on. When the high tides are 
in, not a vestige of sand remains. I saw a great dog rush 
into the sea yesterday, and swim and bear up against the 
waves like a seal. I wonder what Flossy would say to 
that. 

On Sunday afternoon I went to a church which I should 
like Mr. NichoUs to see. It was certainly not more than 
thrice the length and breadth of our passage, floored with 
brick, the walls green with mould, the pews painted white, 
but the paint almost all worn off with time and decay. At 
one end there is a little gallery for the singers, and when 
these personages stood up to perform they all turned their 
backs upon the congregation, and the congregation turned 
their backs on the pulpit and parson. The effect of this 
manoeuvre was so ludicrous, I could hardly help laughing; 
had Mr. NichoUs been there he certainly would have 
laughed out. Looking up at the gallerv^ and seeing only 
the broad backs of the singers presented to their audience 
was excessively grotesque. There is a well-meaning but 
utterly inactive clergyman at Filey, and Methodists 
flourish. 

I cannot help enjoying Mr. Butterfield's defeat; and yet 

446 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

in one sense this is a bad state of things, calculated to 
make working people both discontented and insubordinate. 
Give my kind regards, dear papa, to Mr. Nicholls, Tabby, 
and Martha. Charge Martha to beware of draughts, and 
to get such help in her cleaning as she shall need. I hope 
you will continue well.—Believe me, your affectionate 
daughter, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

December i^ih, 1852. 

Dear Ellen, — I return the note, which is highly 
characteristic, and not, I fear, of good omen for the com- 
fort of your visit. There must be something wTong in 
herself as well as in her servants. I inclose another note 
which, taken in conjunction with the incident immediately 
preceding it, and with a long series of indications whose 
meaning I scarce ventured hitherto to interpret to myself, 
much less hint to any other, has left on my mind a feeling 
of deep concern. This note you will see is from Mr. 
Nicholls. 

I know not whether you have ever observed him specially 
when staying here. Your perception is generally quick 
enough — too quick, I have sometimes thought; yet as you 
never said anything, I restrained my own dim misgivings, 
which could not claim, the sure guide of vision. What papa 
has seen or guessed I will not inquire, though I may con- 
jecture. He has minutely noticed all Mr. Nicholls's low 
spirits, all his threats of expatriation, all his symptoms of 
impaired health — noticed them with little sympathy and 
much indirect sarcasm. On Monday evening Mr. Nicholls 
was here to tea. I vaguely felt without clearly seeing, 
as without seeing I have felt for some time, the meaning 
of his constant looks, and strange, feverish restraint. After 
tea I withdrew to the dining-room as usual. As usual, Mr. 
Nicholls sat with papa till between eight and nine o'clock; 
I then heard him open the parlour door as if going. I 
expected the clash of the front door. He stopped in the 
passage ; he tapped ; like lightning it flashed on me what 

447 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

was coming. He entered; he stood before me. What 
his words were vou can s^uess : his manner vou can hardlv 
reahse, nor can I forget it. Shaking from head to foot, 
looking deadly pale, speaking low, vehemently, yet with 
difficulty^ he made me for the first time feel what it costs 
a man to declare affection where he doubts response. 

The spectacle of one ordinarily so statue-hke thus 
trembling, stirred, and overcome, gave me a kind of strange 
shock. He spoke of sufferings he had borne for months, 
of sufferins^s he could endure no longer, and craved leave 
for some hope. I could only entreat him to leave me then 
and promise a reply on the morrow. I asked him if he 
had spoken to papa. He said he dared not. I think I 
half led, half put him out of the room. WTien he was gone 
I immediately went to papa, and told him what had taken 
place. Agitation and anger disproportionate to the 
occasion ensued; if I had loved Mr. Xicholls, and had 
heard such epithets applied to him as were used, it would 
have transported me past my patience : as it was, my blood 
boiled with a sense of injustice. But papa worked him- 
self into a state not to be trifled with: the veins on his 
temples started up like whip-cord, and his eyes became 
suddenly bloodshot. I made haste to promise that Mr. 
Nicholls should on the morrow have a distinct refusal. 

I wrote yesterday and got this note. There is no need 
to add to this statement any comment. Papa's vehement 
antipathy to the bare thought of any one thinking of me 
as a wife, and Mr. Xicholls's distress, both give me pain. 
Attachment to Mr. Xicholls you are aware I never enter- 
tained, but the poignant pity inspired by his state on 
Monday evening, by the hurried revelation of his sufferings 
for m.any months, is something galling and irksome. 
That he cared something for me, and wanted me to care 
for him, I have long suspected, but I did not know the 
degree or strength of his feelings. Dear X'ell, good-bye. — 
Yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

I have letters from Sir J. K. Shuttle worth and Miss 
Martineau, but I cannot talk of them now. 

With this letter we see the tragedy bes^inning. Mr. 

44S 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

Bronte, with his daughter's fame ringing in his ears, 
thought she should do better than marry a curate with 
less than a hundred pounds per annum. For once, and 
for the only time in his life there is reason to believe, his 
passions were thoroughly aroused. It is to the honour of 
Mr. Nicholls, and says much for his magnanimity, that 
he always maintained that Mr. Bronte was perfectly 
justified in the attitude he adopted. His feeling for Mr 
Bronte, one of unbounded respect and reverence, and the 
occasional unfriendly references to his father-in-law 
pained him perhaps even more than when he himself the 
\dctim. 

'' Attachment to Mr. Nicholls you are aware I never 
entertained.*' A good deal has been made of this and 
other casual references of Charlotte Bronte to her slight 
affection for her future husband. Martha Bro^^m, the 
servant, used in her latter days to say that Charlotte 
would come into the kitchen and ask her if it w^as right 
to marry a man one did not entirely love — and ^Martha 
Brown's esteem for Mr. Nicholls was ver}'' great. But 
it is possible to make too much of all this. It is a 
commonplace of psychology to say that a woman's love 
is^'of slow growi:h. It is quite certain that Charlotte 
Bronte suffered much during this period of alienation 
and separation; that she alone secured Mr. NichoUs's 
return to Haworth, after his temporar^^ estrangement 
from Mr. Bronte; and finally, that the months of her 
married life, prior to her last illness, were the happiest 
she was destined to know. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, December iStk, 1852. 

Dear Nell. — You may well ask, how is it? for I am 
sure I don't know. This business would seem to me like 
a dream, did not my reason tell me it has long been brew- 
ing. It puzzles me to comprehend how and whence 
comes this turbulence of feeling. 

You ask how papa demeans himself to Mr. Nicholls. I 
only wish you were here to see papa in his present mood : 
you would know something of him. He just treats him 
with a hardness not to be bent, and a contempt not to be 
propitiated. The two have had no interview as yet: all 

449 P 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

has been done by letter. Papa wrote. I must say, a most 
cruel note to Mr. Nicholls on Wednesday. In his state 
of mind and health (for the poor man is horrif^-ing his 
landlady, Martha's mother, by entirely rejecting his 
meals) I felt that the blow must be parried, and I thought 
it right to accompany the pitiless despatch by a line to 
the effect that, while Mr. Xicholis must never expect me to 
reciprocate the feeling he had expressed, yet, at the same 
time. I wished to disclaim participation in sentiment- 
calculated to give him pain: and I exhorted him to main- 
tain his courage and spirits. On recei\dng the two letters, 
he set off from home. Yesterday cam^e the inclosed brief 
epistle. 

You must understand that a good share of papa's anger 
arises from the idea, not altogether groundless, that Mr. 
Nicholls has behaved with disingenuousness in so long con- 
cealing his aim. I am afraid also that papa thinks a httle 
too much about his want of monev: he savs the match 
would be a desradation. that I should be thro^^-insr mvself 
away, that he expects me, if I marr}' at all, to do ver}' 
differently: in short, his m^anner of \ne^-ing the subject is 
on the whole far from being one in which I can s^-mpathise. 
My own objections arise from a sense of incongruity and 
uncongeniality in feelings, tastes, principles. 

How are you getting on. dear Xell, and how are all at 
Brookroyd ? Remember me kindly to ever^-body . — Yours . 
wishing devoutly that papa would resume his tranquilht>'. 
and Mr. Nicholls his beef and pudding, C. Bronte. 

I am glad to say that the incipient inflammation in 
papa's eye is disappearirg. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

January 2nd, 1853. 

Dear Nell.— I thought of you on New Year's night, and 
hope you got well over your formidable tea-making. I trust 
that Tuesday and Wednesday v.ill also pass pleasantly. I 
am busy too in my little way preparing to go to London 
this week, a matter which necessitates some little applica- 

450 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

tion to the needle. I find it is quite necessar^^ I should go 
to superintend the press^ as Mr. Smith seems quite deter- 
mined not to let the printing get on till I come. I have 
actually only received three proof-sheets since I was at 
Brookroyd. Papa wants me to go too^ to be out of the 
way^ I suppose; but I am sorry for one other person whom 
nobody pities but me. Martha is bitter against him: 
John BrowTi says " he should like to shoot him.^' They 
don't understand the nature of his feelings^ but I see now 
what they are. He is one of those w^ho attach themselves 
to very few^ whose sensations are close and deep, hke an 
underground stream, running strong, but in a narrow 
channel. He continues restless and ill: he carefully per- 
forms the occasional duty, but does not come near the 
church, procuring a substitute every Sunday. A few days 
since he wrote to papa requesting permission to withdraw 
his resignation. Papa answered that he should only do 
so on condition of giving his written promise never again 
to broach the obnoxious subject either to him or to me. 
This he has evaded doing, so the matter remains unsettled. 
I feel persuaded the termination will be his departure for 
Australia. Dear Nell, without loving him, I don't like to 
think of him suflering in sohtude, and wish him anywhere 
so that he were happier. He and papa have never met or 
spoken yet. I am very glad to learn that your mother is 
pretty well, and also that the piece of challenged work is 
progressing. I hope you will not be called away to Norfolk 
before I come home: I should like you to pay a visit to 
Haworth first. Write again soon. — Yours faithfully, 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

March 4/A, 1853. 

Dear Ellen, — We had the parsons to supper as well as 
to tea. Mr. N. demeaned himself not quite pleasantly. I 
thought he made no effort to struggle with his dejection 
but gave way to it in a manner to draw notice; the 
Bishop was obviously puzzled by it. Mr. Nicholls also 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

showed temper once or twice in speaking to papa. Martha 
was beginning to tell me of certain " flaysome '' looks also, 
but I desired not to hear of them. The fact is, I shall be 
most thankful when he is well away. I pity him, but I 
don't like that dark gloom of his. He dogged me up the 
lane after the evening service in no pleasant manner. He 
stopped also in the passage after the Bishop and the other 
clergy were gone into the room, and it was because I drew 
away and went upstairs that he gave that look which filled 
Martha's soul with horror. She, it seems, meantime, was 
making it her business to watch him from the kitchen door. 
If Mr. NichoUs be a good man at bottom, it is a sad thing 
that nature has not given him the faculty to put goodness 
into a more attractive form. Into the bargain of all the 
rest he managed to get up a most pertinacious and needless 
dispute with the Inspector, in listening to which all my old 
unfavourable impressions revived so strongly, I fear my 
countenance could not but shew them. 

Dear Nell, I consider that on the whole it is a mercy you 
have been at home and not at Norfolk during the late cold 
weather. Love to all at Brookroyd. — Yours faithfully, 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

March gth, 1853. 

Dear Ellen, — I am sure Miss Wooler would enjoy her 
visit to you, as much as you her company. Dear Nell, I 
thank you sincerely for your discreet and friendly silence 
on the point alluded to. I had feared it would be dis- 
cussed between you two, and had an inexpressible shrink- 
ing at the thought; now less than ever does it seem a 
matter open to discussion. I hear nothing, and you must 
quite understand that if I feel any uneasiness it is not that 
of confirmed and fixed regard, but that anxiety which is 
inseparable from a state of absolute uncertainty about a 
somewhat momentous matter. I do not know, I am not 
sure myself, that any other termination would be better 
than lasting estrangement and unbroken silence. Yet a 

452 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

good deal of pain has been and must be gone through in 
that case. However^ to each his burden. 

I have not yet read the papers; d.v. I will send them 
to-morrow. — Yours faithfully^ C. Bronte. 

Understand that in whatever I have said above, it was 
not for pity or sympathy. I hardly pity myself. Only 
I wish that in all matters in this world there was fair and 
open dealing, and no underhand work, 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, April 6ih, 1853. 

Dear Ellen, — ^ly visit to Manchester is for the present 
put off by Mr. Morgan having written to say that since 
papa will not go to Buckingham to see him he will come to 
Yorkshire to see papa; when, I don't yet know, and I trust 
in goodness he will not stay long, as papa really cannot 
bear putting out of his way. I must wait, however, till 
the infliction is over. 

You ask about Mr. Nicholls. I hear he has got a curacy, 
but do not yet know where. I trust the news is true. He 
and papa never speak. He seems to pass a desolate life. 
He has allowed late circumstances so to act on him as to 
freeze up his manner and overcast his countenance not 
onl)' to those immediately concerned but to every one. 
He sits drearily in his rooms. If Mr. Grant or any other 
clerg}^Tnan calls to see, and as they think, to cheer him, he 
scarcely speaks. I find he tells them nothing, seeks no 
confidant, rebuffs all attempts to penetrate his mind. I 
own I respect him for this. He still lets Flossy go to his 
rooms, and takes him to walk. He still goes over to see 
Mr. Sowden sometimes, and, poor fellow, that is all. He 
looks ill and miserable. I think and trust in Heaven that 
he will b3 better as soon as he fairly gets away from 
Haworth. I pity him inexpressibly. We never meet nor 
speak, nor dare I look at him; silent pity is just all that 
I can give him, and as he knows nothing about that, it 
does not comfort. He is now grown so gloomy and re- 
served that nobody seems to like him. His fellow-curates 

453 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

shun trouble in that shape; the lower orders dislike it. 
Papa has a perfect antipathy to him^ and he^ I fear^ to 
papa. Martha hates him. I think he might almost be 
dying and they would not speak a friendly word to or of 
him. How much of all this he deserves I can't tell; 
certainly he never was agreeable or amiable, and is less so 
now than ever, and alas ! I do not know him well enough 
to be sure that there is truth and true affection, or only 
rancour and corroding disappointment at the bottom of 
his chagrin. In this state of things I must be, and I am, 
entirely passive, I may be losing the purest gem, and to 
me far the most precious, life can give — genuine attach- 
ment — or I may be escaping the yoke of a morose temper. 
In this doubt conscience will not suffer me to take one step 
in opposition to papa's will, blended as that will is with 
the most bitter and unreasonable prejudices. So I just 
leave the matter where we must leave all important 
matters. 

Remember me kindly to all at Brookroyd, and — Believe 
me, yours faithfully, C. Bronte, 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May i6th, 1853. 

Dear Ellen, — The east winds about which you inquire 
have spared me wonderfully till to-day, when I feel some- 
what sick physically, and not very bhthe mentally. I am 
not sure that the east winds are entirely to blame for this 
ailment. Yesterday was a strange sort of a day at church. 
It seems as if I were to be punished for my doubts about 
the nature and truth of poor Mr. Nicholls's regard. Having 
ventured on Whit Sunday to stop the sacrament, I got a 
lesson not to be repeated. He struggled, faltered, then 
lost command over himself — stood before my eyes and in 
the sight of all the communicants white, shaking, voiceless. 
Papa was not there, thank God ! Joseph Redman spoke 
some words to him. He made a great effort, but could 
only with difficulty whisper and falter through the service. 
I suppose he thought this would be the last time; he goes 

454 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

either this week or the next. I heard the women sobbing 
rounds and I could not quite check my own tears. What 
had happened was reported to papa either by Joseph Red- 
man or John Brown; it excited only anger^ and such 
expressions as " unmanly driveller." Compassion or re- 
lenting is no more to be looked for than sap from firewood? 
I never saw a battle more sternly fought with the feel- 
ings than Mr. Nicholls fights with his, and when he yields 
momentarily, you are almost sickened by the sense of the 
strain upon him. However, he is to go, and I cannot 
speak to him or look at him or comfort him a whit, and I 
must submit. Providence is over all, that is the only 
consolation. — Yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May igthj 1853. 

Dear Ellen, — I cannot help feeling a certain satis- 
faction in finding that the people here are getting up a 
subscription to offer a testimonial of respect to Mr. 
Nicholls on his leaving the place. Many are expressing 
both their commiseration and esteem for him. The 
Churchwardens recently put the question to him plainly: 
Why was he going ? Was it Mr. Bronte's fault or his own ? 
"His own," he answered. Did he blame Mr. Bronte.^ 
"No! he did not: if anybody was wrong it was himself." 
Was he willing to go? " No! it gave him great pain." 
Yet he is not always right. I must be just. He shows a 
curious mixture of honour and obstinacy — feeling and 
sullenness. Papa addressed him at the school tea-drink- 
ing, with constrained civility, but still with civility. He 
did not reply civilly; he cut short further words. This 
sort of treatment offered in public is what papa never will 
forget or forgive, it inspires him with a silent bitterness not 
to be expressed. I am afraid both are unchristian in their 
mutual feelings. Nor do I know which of them is least 
accessible to reason or least likely to forgive. It is a 
dismal state of things. 

The weather is fine now, dear Nell. We will take these 

455 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

sunny days as a good omen for your visit to Yarmouth. 
With kind regards to all at Brookroyd, and best wishes to 
yourself, — I am, yours sincerely, C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN XUSSEY 

Haworth, May 2'jth, 1853. 

Dear Ellen, — You will want to know about the leave- 
taking? The whole matter is but a painful subject, but I 
must treat it briefly. The testimonial was presented in a 
public meeting. Mr. Taylor and Mr. Grant were there. 
Papa was not very well and I advised him to stay away, 
which he did. As to the last Sunday, it was a cruel 
struggle. Mr. Nicholls ought not to have had to take 
any duty. 

He left Haworth this morning at sLx o'clock. Yesterday 
evening he called to render into papa's hands the deeds of 
the National School, and to say good-bye. They were 
busy cleaning — washing the paint, etc., in the dining- 
room, so he did not find me there. I would not go into 
the parlour to speak to him in papa's presence. He went 
out, thinking he was not to see me; and indeed, till the 
very last moment, I thought it best not. But perceiving 
that he stayed long before going out at the gate, and 
rememberins: his lonsr erief, I took courage and went out. 
trembling and miserable. I found him leaning against 
the garden door in a paroxysm of anguish, sobbing as 
women never sob. Of course I went straight to him. 
Very few words were interchanged, those few bareh- 
articulate. Several things I should have liked to ask him 
were swept entirely from my memory. Poor fellow I But 
he wanted such hope and such encouragement as I could 
not give him. Still, I trust he must know now that I am 
not cruelly blind and indifferent to his constancy and 
grief. For a few weeks he goes to the south of England, 
afterwards he takes a curacy somewhere in Yorkshire, but 
I don't know where. 

Papa has been far from strong lately. I dare not men- 
tion Mr. Nicholls's name to him. He speaks of him quietly 

456 



Rev. Arthur Bell NichoUs 

and without opprobrium to others, but to me he is im- 
placable on the matter. However^ he is gone — gone^ and 
there's an end of it. I see no chance of hearing a word 
about him in future, unless some stray shred of intelligence 
comes through Mr. Sowden or some other second-hand 
source. In all this it is not I who am to be pitied at 
all, and of course nobody pities me. They all think in 
Haworth that I have disdainfully refused him. If pity 
would do Mr. Nicholls any good, he ought to have, and 
I believe has it. They may abuse me if they will; whether 
they do or not I can't tell. 

Write soon and say how your prospects proceed. I trust 
they will daily brighten.— Yours faithfully, 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS L^TITIA WHEELWRIGHT 

Haworth, March i8th, 1854. 

My dear LiETiTiA, — I was very glad to see your hand- 
writing again; it is, I believe, a year since I heard from 
you. Again and again you have recurred to my thoughts 
lately, and I w^as beginning to have some sad presages as 
to the cause of your silence. Your letter happily does 
away with all these; it brings, on the whole, good tidings 
both of your papa, mamma, your sister, and, last but not 
least, your dear respected English self. 

My dear father has borne the severe winter very well, a 
circumstance for which I feel the more thankful, as he had 
many weeks of very precarious health last summer, follow- 
ing an attack from which he suffered last June, and which 
for a few hours deprived him totally of sight, though 
neither his mind, speech, nor even his powers of motion 
were in the least affected. I can hardly tell you how 
thankful I was, dear Laetitia, when, after that dreary and 
almost despairing interval of utter darkness, some gleam 
of daylight became visible to him once more. I had 
feared that paralysis had seized the optic nerve. A sort 
of mist remained for a long time, and indeed his vision is 
not yet perfectly clear, but he can read, write, and walk 

457 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

about; and he preaches twice even- Sunday^ the curate 
only reading the prayers. You can well understand how 
earnestly I pray that sight may be spared him to the end ; 
he so dreads the privation of blindness. His mind is just 
as strong and active as ever^ and pohtics interest him as 
they do your papa. The Czar, the war, the alliance be- 
tween France and England — into all these things he throws 
himself heart and soul. They seem to carry him back to 
his comparatively young days, and to renew the excite- 
ment of the last great European struggle. Of course, my 
father's s}TXipathies, and mine too, are all with justice and 
Europe against t}Tanny and Russia. 

Circumstanced as I have been, you will comprehend 
that I had neither the leisure nor inclination to go from 
home much during the past year. I spent a week with 
Mrs. Gaskell in the spring, and a fortnight with some other 
friends more recently, and that includes the whole of my 
visiting since I saw vou last. Mv life is indeed verv uni- 
form and retired, more so than is quite healthful either for 
mind or body; yet I feel reason for often renewed feelings 
of gratitude in the sort oi support which stili comes and 
cheers me from time to time. My health, though not un- 
broken is, I sometimes fancy, rather stronger on the whole 
than it was three years ago ; headache and dyspepsia are 
my worst ailments. Whether I shall come up to town 
this season for a few days I do not yet know; but if I do 
I shall hope to call in Phiilimore Place. With kindest 
remembrances to your papa, mamma, and sisters, — I am, 
dear Lsetitia, afiectionately yours, C. Brome. 

Mr. Nicholls's successor did not pro\-e acceptable to 
Mr. Bronte. He complained again and again, and one 
day Charlotte turned upon her father and told him pretty- 
frankly that he was alone to blame — that he had only 
to let her many- Mr. iNichoUs, \vith whom she corr^- 
ponded and whom she really loved, and all would be 
well. A Uttle arrangement, the transfer of Mr. Nicholls's 
successor, Mr. De Renzi, to a Bradford church, and Mr. 
Nicholls left his curacy at Kirk-Smeaton and returned 
once more to Haworth as an accepted lover. 

458 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

TO MISS ELLEN XUSSEY 

Kawortb., March 2^th, 1854. 

My dear Ellen, — The inclosure in yours of yesterday 
puzzled me at first, for I did not immediately recognise 
my o^Ti hand-^^Titing ; when I did. the sensation was one 
of consternation and vexation, as the letter ought by all 
means to have gone on Friday. It was intended to relieve 
him of great anxiety. However, I trust he ^^\\ get it to- 
day : and on the whole, when I think it over. I can only be 
thankful that the mistake was no worse, and did not throw 
the letter into the hands of some indifferent and unscrupu- 
lous person. I \\Tote it after some days of indisposition 
and uneasiness, and when I felt weak and unfit to Vinxte, 
^Vhile wTiting to him, I was at the same time intending 
to answer your note, which I suppose accounts for the 
confusion of ideas, sho^m in the mLxed and blundering 
address. 

I wish you could come about Easter rather than at 
another tim.e^ for this reason: Mr. Nicholls. if not pre- 
vented, proposes coming over then. I suppose he will 
stay at 5lr. Grant's, as he has done two or three times 
before, but he ^\'ill be frequently coming here, which 
would enliven your visit a httle. Perhaps, too, he might 
take a walk ^-ith us occasionally, .\ltogether it would 
be a little chansre. such as. vou know. I could not alwavs 
ofFer. 

If aU be well he vn& come under different circumstances 
to any that have attended his visits before; were it other- 
\sise, I should not ask you to meet him. for when aspects 
are gloomy and unpropitious, the fewer there are to suffer 
from the cloud the better. 

He was here in Januar\^ and was then received, but not 
pleasantly. I trust it will be a little different now. 

Papa breakfasts in bed and has not yet risen: his bron- 
chitis is still troublesome. I had a bad week last week, 
but am greatly better now, for my mind is a little relieved, 
though ver\^ sedate, and rising only to expectations the 
most moderate. 

4 "9 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Sometime; perhaps in May, I may hope to come to 
Brookroyd, but, as you will understand from what I have 
now stated. I could not come before. 

Think it over, dear Nell, and come to Haworth if you 
can. Write as soon as vou can decide. — Yours affec- 
tionately, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April ist, 1854. 

My dear Ellen, — You certainly were right in your 
second interpretation of my note. I am too well aware 
of the dulness of Haworth for any visitor, not to be glad 
to avail myself of the chance of offering even a slight 
change. But this morning my little plans have been dis- 
arranged by an intima tion that Mr. Nicholls is coming on 
Monday. I thought to put him off, but have not suc- 
ceeded. As Easter now consequently seems an un- 
favourable period both from your point of view and mine, 
we will adjourn it till a better opportunity offers. Mean- 
time, I thank you, dear Ellen, for your kind offer to come 
in case I wanted you. Papa is still very far from well: 
his cough very troublesome, and a good deal of inflam- 
matory action in the chest. To-day he seems somewhat 
better than yesterday, and I earnestly hope the improve- 
ment may continue. 

With kind regards to your mother and all at Brookroyd, 
— I am^ dear Ellen, yours affectionately, C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, April nth, 1854. 

Dear Ellen, — Thank you for the collar: it is very 
pretty, and I will wear it for the sake of her who made and 
gave it. 

Mr. Nicholls came on Monday, and was here all last 
week. Matters have progressed thus since July. He 
renewed his visit in September, but then matters so fell 
out that I saw little of him. He continued to write. The 
correspondence pressed on mv mind. I grew very miser- 

460 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

able in keeping it from papa. At last sheer pain made me 
gather courage to break it. I told all. It was very hard 
and rough work at the time^ but the issue after a few days 
was that I obtained leave to continue the communication. 
Mr. Nicholls came in January; he was ten days in the 
neighbourhood. I sav/ much of him. I had stipulated 
with papa for opportunity to become better acquainted. 
I had it, and all I learnt inclined me to esteem and affec- 
tion. Still papa was very, very hostile, bitterly unjust. 

I told Mr. Nicholls the great obstacle that lay in his way. 
He has persevered. The result of this, his last visit, is. 
that papa's consent is gained, that his respect, I believe, 
is won, for Mr. Nicholls has in all things proved himself 
disinterested and forbearing. Certainly, I must respect 
him, nor can I withhold from him more than mere cool 
respect. In fact, dear Ellen, I am engaged. 

Mr. Nicholls, in the course of a few months, will return 
to the curacy of Haworth. I stipulated that I would not 
leave papa; and to papa himself I proposed a plan of 
residence which should maintain his seclusion and con- 
venience uninvaded, and in a pecuniary sense bring him 
gain instead of loss. What seemed at one time impossible 
is now arranged, and papa begins really to take a pleasure 
in the prospect. 

For myself, dear Ellen, while thankful to One who seems 
to have guided me through much difficulty, much and 
deep distress and perplexity of mind, I am still very calm, 
very inexpectant. What I taste of happiness is of the 
soberest order. I trust to love my husband. I am grate- 
ful for his tender love to me. I believe him to be an 
affectionate, a conscientious, a high-principled man; and 
if, with all this, I should yield to regrets that fine talents, 
congenial tastes and thoughts are not added, it seems to 
me I should be most presumptuous and thankless. 

Providence offers me this destiny. Doubtless, then, 
it is the best for me. Nor do I shrink from wishing those 
dear to me one not less happy. 

It is possible that our marriage may take place in the 
course of the summer. Mr. Nicholls wishes it to be in 

461 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

July. He spoke of you with great kindness, and said he 
hoped you would be at our wedding. I said I thought of 
having no other bridesmaid. Did I say rightly? I mean 
the marriage to be literally as quiet as possible. 

Do not mention these things just yet. I mean to write 
to Miss Wooler shortly. Good-bye. There is a strange 
half-sad feeling in making these announcements. The 
whole thing is something other than imagination paints 
it beforehand; cares, fears, come mixed inextricably with 
hopes. I trust yet to talk the matter over with you. 
Often last week I wished for your presence and said so to 
Mr. Nicholls — Arthur, as I now call him, but he said it 
was the only time and place when he could not have 
wished to see you. Good-bye. — Yours affectionately, 

C. Bronte. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April i^thy 1854. 

My own dear Nell, — I hope to see you somewhere 
about the second week in May. 

The Manchester visit is still hanging over my head. I 
have deferred it, and deferred it, but have finally promised 
to go about the beginning of next month. I shall only 
stay three days, then I spend two or three days at Huns- 
worth, then come to Brookroyd. The three visits must be 
compressed into the space of a fortnight, if possible. 

I suppose I shall have to go to Leeds. My purchases 
cannot be either expensive or extensive. You must just 
resolve in your head the bonnets and dresses; something 
that can be turned to decent use and worn after the 
wedding-day will be best, I think. 

I wTote immediately to Miss Wooler and received a 
truly kind letter from her this morning. If you think 
she would like to come to the marriage I \vi\\ not fail to ask 
her. 

Papa's mind seems wholly changed about the matter, 
and he has said both to me and when I was not there, how 
much happier he feels since he allowed all to be settled. 
It is a wonderful relief for me to hear him treat the thing 

462 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

rationally, to talk over with him themes on which once 
I dared not touch. He is rather anxious things should get 
forward now, and takes quite an interest in the arrange- 
ment of preliminaries. His health improves daily, though 
this east wind still keeps up a slight irritation in the 
throat and chest. 

The feeling which had been disappointed in papa was 
ambition, paternal pride — ever a restless feeling, as we all 
know. Now that this unquiet spirit is exorcised, justice, 
which was once quite forgotten, is once more listened to, 
and affection, I hope, resumes some power. 

My hope is that in the end this arrangement will turn 
out more truly to papa's advantage than any other it was 
in my power to achieve. Mr. Nicholls in his last letter 
refers touchingly to his earnest desire to prove his grati- 
tude to papa, by offering support and consolation to his 
dechning age. This will not be mere talk with him — he 
is no talker, no dealer in professions, — Yours affectionately, 

C. Bronte. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

April 28/A, 1854. 

My dear Ellen, — I have delayed writing till I could 
give you some clear notion of my movements. If all be 
well, I go to Manchester on the ist of May. Thence, on 
Thursday, to Huns worth till Monday, when (d.v.) I come 
to Brookroyd. I must be at home by the close of the week. 
Papa, thank God! continues to improve much. He 
preached twice on Sunday and again on Wednesday, and 
was not tired; his mind and mood are different to what 
rhey were, so much more cheerful and quiet. I trust the 
illusions of ambition are quite dissipated, and that he 
really sees it is better to relieve a suffering and faithful 
heart, to secure its fidelity, a solid good, than unfeelingly 
to abandon one who is truly attached to his interest as 
well as mine, and pursue some vain empty shadow. 

I thank you, dear Ellen, for your kind invitation to Mr. 
Nicholls. He was asked likewise to Manchester and Huns- 

463 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

worth. I would not have opposed his coming had there 
been no real obstacle to the arrangement — certain little 
awkwardnesses of feeling I would have tried to get over 
for the sake of introducing him to old friends; but it so 
happens that he cannot leave on account of his rector's 
absence. Mr. C. will be in town with his family till June, 
and he always stipulates that his curate shall remain at 
Kirk-Smeaton while he is away. 

How did you get on at the Oratorio? And what did 
Miss Wooler say to the proposal of being at the wedding ? 
I have many points to discuss when I see you. I hope 
your mother and all are well. With kind remembrances 
to them^ and true love to you, — I am, dear Nell, faithfully 
yours, C. Bronte. 

When you write, address me at Mrs. Gaskell's, Plymouth 
Grove, Manchester. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

May 22nd, 1854. 

Dear Ellen, — I wonder how you are, and whether that 
harassing cough is better. Be scrupulously cautious about 
undue exposure. Just now, dear Ellen, an hour's in- 
advertence might cause you to be really ill. So once 
again, take care. Since I came home I have been very 
busy stitching. The little new room is got into order, 
and the green and white curtains are up; they exactly 
suit the papering, and look neat and clean enough. I had 
a letter a day or two since announcing that Mr. Nicholls 
comes to-morrow. I feel anxious about him, more 
anxious on one point than I dare quite express to myself. 
It seems he has again been suffering sharply from his 
rheumatic affection. I hear this not from himself, but 
from another quarter. He was ill while I was at Man- 
chester and Brookroyd. He uttered no complaint to me, 
dropped no hint on the subject. Alas! he was hoping 
he had got the better of it, and I know how this 
contradiction of his hopes will sadden him. For unselfish 
reasons he did so earnestly wish this complaint might not 

464 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

become chronic. I fear^ I fear. But^ however, I mean 
to stand by him now, whether in weal or woe. This 
Habihty to rheumatic pain was one of the strong argu- 
ments used against the marriage. It did not weigh some- 
how. If he is doomed to suffer, it seems that so much the 
more will he need care and help. And yet the ultimate 
possibilities of such a case are appalling. You remem- 
ber your aunt. Well, come what may, God help and 
strengthen both him and me. I look forward to 
to-morrow with a mixture of impatience and anxiety. 
Poor fellow I I want to see with my own eyes how he is. 

It is getting late and dark. Write soon, dear Ellen.- 
Good-night and God bless you. — Yours affectionately. 

C. BRONTEg 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, May 27//^, 1854. 

Dear Ellen, — Your letter was very welcome, and I am 
glad and thankful to learn you are better. Still beware 
of presuming on the improvement — don't let it make you 
careless. Mr. Nicholls has just left me. Your hopes 
were not ill-founded about his illness. At first I was 
thoroughly frightened. However, inquiring gradually 
relieved me. In short, I soon discovered that my busi- 
ness was, instead of sympathy, to rate soundly. The 
patient had wholesome treatment while he was at Haworth 
and went away singularly better; perfectly unreasonable, 
however, on some points, as his fallible sex are not ashamed 
to be. 

Man is, indeed, an amazing piece of mechanism when 
you see, so to speak, the full weakness of what he calls his 
strength. There is not a female child above the age of 
eight but might rebuke him for spoilt petulance of his 
wilful nonsense. I bought a border for the table-cloth 
and have put it on. 

Good-bye, dear Ellen. Write again soon, and mind 
and give a bulletin. — Yours faithfully, C. Bronte. 

465 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

To MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

June 12th, 1854. 

Dear Ellen. — Papa preached twice to-day as well and 
as strongly as ever. It is strange how he varies, how 
soon he is depressed and how soon revived. It makes 
me feel so thankful when he is better. I am thankful too 
that you are stronger, dear Nell. My worthy acquaint- 
ance at Kirk-Smeaton refuses to acknowledge himself 
better yet. I am uneasy about not writing to ]\Iiss Wooler. 
I fear she will think me negligent, while I am only busy 
and bothered. I want to clear up my needlework a little, 
and have been sewing against time since I was at Brook- 
royd. Mr. Nicholls hindered me for a full week. 

I like the card very well, but not the envelope. I 
should like a perfectly plain envelope with a silver initial. 

I got my dresses from Halifax a day or two since, but 
have not had time to have them unpacked, so I don't 
know what they are like. 

Next time I write, I hope to be able to give you clear 
information, and to beg you to come here without further 
delay. Good-bye, dear Nell. — Yours faithfully, 

C. Bronte. 

I had almost forgotten to mention about the envelopes 
Mr. Nicholls says I have ordered far too few: he thinks 
sixty will be wanted. Is it too late to remedy this error? 
There is no end to his string of parson friends. My own 
list I have not made out. 

Charlotte Bronte's list of friends, to whom wedding- 
cards were to be sent, is in her own handwriting, and is 
not wnthout interest: — 

SEND CARDS TO 

The Rev. W. Morgan, Rectory, Hulcott, Aylesbury, 

Bucks. 
Joseph Branwell, Esq., Thamar Terrace, Launceston, 

Cornwall. 
Dr. Wheelwright, 29 PhiUimore Place, Kensington, 

London. 

466 



Rev. Arthur Bell NichoUs 

George Smith, Esq., 65 Comhill, London. 

Mrs. and IMisses Smith, 65 Comhill, London. 

W. S. Williams, Esq., 65 Comhill, London. 

R. Monckton Milnes, Esq. 

Mrs. Gaskell, Plymouth Grove, Manchester. 

Francis Bennoch, Esq., Park, Blackheath, London. 

George Taylor, Esq., Stanbury. 

Mrs. and Miss Taylor. 

H. Merrall, Esq., Lea Sykes, Haworth. 

E. Merrall, Esq., Ebor House, Haworth, 

R. Butterfield, Esq., Woodlands, Haworth. 

R. Thomas, Esq., Haworth. 

J. Pickles, Esq., Brow Top, Haworth. 

Wooler Family. 

Brookroyd.i 

The following was written on her wedding day, June 
29th, 1854. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Thursday Evening. 

Dear Ellen, — I scribble one hasty line just to say that 
after a pleasant enough journey we have got safely to 
Conway ; the evening is wet and wild; though the day was 
fair chiefly, with some gleams of sunshine. However, we 
are sheltered in a comfortable inn. My cold is not worse. 
If you get this scrawl to-morrow and write by return, 
direct to me at the post-office, Bangor, and I may get it on 
Monday. Say how you and Miss Wooler got home. Give 
my kindest and most grateful love to Miss Wooler when- 
ever you write. On Monday, I think, we cross the 
Channel. No more at present. — Yours faithfully and 
lovingly, C. B. N 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, August gth^ 1854. 

Dear Ellen, — I earnestly hope you are by yourself 
now, and relieved from the fag of entertaining guests. 
You do not complain, but I am afraid you have had too 
much of it. 

* The Nusseys. 
467 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

Since I can:e zo:ze I ::ave n:: had an unen:pioyed 
moment. My life is chajued indeed: to be wanted con- 
tinually^ to oe constantly called ior and occupied seems so 
strange; yet it is a marvellously good thing. As yet I 
don't quite imderstand how some wives grow so selfish. 
.\5 far as my e3q>erience of matrimony goes^ I think it tends 
to draw you out of, and away from yourself. 

We have had sundry calkrs this week. Yesterday Mr. 
Sowden and another gentlonan dined here, and Mr. and 
Mrs. Grant joined them at tea. 

I do not think we shall go to Brookroyd soon, on papa's 
acooont. I do not wish again to kave home for a time, 
but I trust you will ere long come here. 

I really like Mr. Sowden very welL He asked after 
you. Mr. NichoUs told him we expected you would be 
coining to stay with us in the course of three or four weeks, 
and ti^t he should then invite him over again as he wished 
us to take sundry rather long walks, and as he should have 
his wife to look after, and she was trouble enough, it would 
be quite necessary to have a guardian for the other lady. 
Mr. Sowden seemed perfectly acquiescent. 

Dear Nell, during the last six weeks, the colour of my 
thoughts is a good deal changed: I know more of the 
realities of life than I once did. I think many false ideas 
are propagated, perhaps unintentionally. I think those 
married women who indiscriminately urge their acquaint- 
ance to marry, much to blame. For my part, I can only 
say with deeper sincerity and fuller significance what I 
always said in theory, '' Wait God's wilL*' Indeed, 
indeed, Nell, it is a solonn and strange and peribus thing 
for a woman to become a wife. Mans lot is far, far 
different. Tell me when you think you can come. Papa 
is better, but not welL How is your mother? give my 
love to her. — ^Yours faithfully, C. B. Nicbolls. 

Have I told you how much better Mr. NichoUs is.^ He 
looks quite strong and hale; he gained 12 lbs. during the 
four weeks we were in Ireland. To see this improvement 
in him has be^i a main source of happiness to me, and to 
speak truth, a subject of wonder too. 

468 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth^ August 2gik. 

Dear Ellen ^ — Can you come here on Wednesday week 
(Sept. 6th)? Try to arrange matters to do so if possible, 
for it will be better than to delay your visit till the days 
grow cold and short. I want to see you again, dear Nell, 
and my husband too will receive you with pleasure; and 
he is not diffuse of his courtesies or partialities, I can 
assure you. One friendly word from him means as much 
as twenty from most people. 

We have been busy lately giving a supper and tea- 
drinking to the singers, ringers, Sunday-school teachers, 
and all the scholars of the Sunday and National Schools, 
amounting to some 500 souls. It gave satisfaction and 
went off well. 

Papa, I am thankful to say, is much better; he preached 
last Sunday. How does your mother bear this hot 
weather ? Write soon . dear Nell, and say you will come. — 
Yours faithfully, ' C. B. N. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haw^orth, September jthj 1854. 

Dear Ellen, — I send a French paper to-day. You 
would almost think I had given them up, it is so long since 
one was despatched. The fact is, they had accumulated 
to quite a pile during my absence. I wished to look them 
over before sending them off, and as yet I have scarcely 
found time. That same Time is an article of which I once 
had a large stock always on hand ; where it is all gone now 
it would be difficult to say, but my moments are very 
fully occupied. Take warning, Ellen, the married woman 
can call but a very small portion of each day her o\\ti. 
Not that I complain of this sort of monopoly as yet, and 
I hope I never shall incline to regard it as a misfortune, 
but it certainly exists. We were both disappointed 
that you could not come on the day I mentioned. I have 
grudged this splendid weather very much. The moors 

469 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

are in glory^ I never saw them fuller of purple bloom. I 
wanted you to see them at their best; they are just 
turning now^ and in another week. I fear, will be faded and 
sere. As soon as ever you can leave home^ be sure to 
write and let me know. 

Papa continues greatly better. My husband flourishes ; 
he begins indeed to express some slight alarm at the 
growing improvement in his condition. I think I am 
decent; better certainly than I w^as two months ago, but 
people don't compliment me as they do Arthur — excuse 
the name^ it has grown natural to use it now. I trusty 
dear Nell, that you are all well at Brookroyd^ and that your 
visiting stirs are pretty nearly over. I compassionate 
you from my heart for all the trouble to which you must 
be put; and I am rather ashamed of people coming spong- 
ing in that fashion one after another; get away from them 
and come here. — Yours faithfully^ C. B. Nicholls. 



TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH; November jih, 1854. 

DearElleN; — Arthur wishes you would burn my letters. 
He was out when I commenced this letter, but he has just 
come in. It is not " old friends '' he mistrusts^ he says, 
but the chances of war — the accidental passing of letters 
into hands and under eyes for which they were never 
written. 

All this seems mighty amusing to me; it is a man's mode 
of viewing correspondence. Men's letters are proverbially 
uninteresting and uncommunicative. I never quite knew 
before why they made them so. They may be right 
in a sense: strange chances do fall out certainly. As to 
my own notes I never thought of attaching importance 
to them or considering their fate, till Arthur seemed to 
reflect on both so seriously. 

I will write again next week if all be well to name a day 
for coming to see you. I am sure you want, or at least 
ought to havC; a little rest before you are bothered with 
more company; but whenever I come, I suppose, dear 

470 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

Nell^ under present circumstances^ it will be a quiet visit, 
and that I shall not need to bring more than a plain dress 
or two. Tell me this when you write. — Beheve me 
faithfully yours, C. B. Nicholls. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, November 21st, 1854. 

Dear Ellen, — You ask about Mr. Sowden's matter. 
He walked over here on a wild rainy day. We talked it 
over. He is quite disposed to entertain the proposal, 
but of course there must be close inquiry and ripe con- 
sideration before either he or the patron decide. Mean- 
time Mr. Sowden ^ is most anxious that the affairs be kept 
absolutely quiet; in the event of disappointment it would 
be both painful and injurious to him if it should be rumoured 
at Hebden Bridge that he has had thoughts of leaving. 
Arthur says if a whisper gets out these things fly from 
parson to parson like wildfire. I cannot help somehow- 
wishing that the matter should be arranged, if all on 
examination is found tolerably satisfactory. 

Papa continues pretty well, I am thankful to say; his 
deafness is wonderfully relieved. Winter seems to suit 
him better than summer ; besides, he is settled and content, 
as I perceive with gratitude to God. 

Dear Ellen, I wish you were well through every trouble. 
Arthur is not in just now or he would send a kind message. 
— Believe me, yours faithfully, C. B. Nicholls. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, November 2gthj 1854. 

Dear Ellen, — Arthur somewhat demurs about my 
going to Brookroyd as yet; fever, you know, is a for- 
midable word. I cannot say I entertain any apprehensions 
myself further than this, that I should be terribly bothered 
at the idea of being taken ill from home and causing 

^ The Rev, George Sowden, vicar of Hebden Bridge, Halifax, 
and honorary canon of Wakefield, is still alive. 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

trouble; and strangers are sometimes more liable to 
infection than persons living in the house. 

Mr. Sowden has seen Sir J. K. Shuttleworth, but I fancy 
the matter is very uncertain as yet. It seems the Bishop 
of Manchester stipulates that the clerg}Tnan chosen should, 
if possible, be from his own diocese, and this, Arthur says, 
is quite right and just. An exception would have been 
made in Arthur's favour, but the case is not so clear with 
Mr. Sowden. However, no harm will have been done 
if the matter does not take wind, as I trust it will not. 
Write very soon_, dear Nell, and, — Believe me, yours 
faithfully, C. B. NichgllSi 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, December 'jih, 1854. 

Dear EllEiX, — I shall not get leave to go to Brookroyd 
before Christmas now, so do not expect me. For my owti 
part I really should have no fear, and if it just depended 
on me I should come. But these matters are not quite in 
my power now: another must be consulted; and where 
his wish and judgment have a decided bias to a particular 
course, I make no stir, but just adopt it. Arthur is sorry 
to disappoint both you and me, but it is his fixed wish that 
a few weeks should be allowed yet to elapse before we 
meet. Probably he is confirmed in this desire by my 
having a cold at present. I did not achieve the walk to 
the waterfall with impunity. Though I changed my wet 
things immediately on returning home, yet I felt a chill 
afterwards, and the same night had sore throat and cold ; 
however, I am better now, but not quite well. 

Did I tell you that our poor little Flossy is dead ^ He 
drcoped for a single day, and died quietly in the night 
without pain. The loss even of a dog was very^ saddening, 
yet perhaps no dog ever had a happier life or an easier 
death. 

Papa continues pretty well, I am happy to say, and my 
dear boy flourishes. I do not mean that he continues to 
grow stouter, which one would not desire, but he keeps in 
excellent condition. 

472 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

You would wonder^ I dare say, at the long disappearance 
of the French paper. I had got such an accumulation of 
them unread that I thought I would not wait to send the 
old ones; now you will receive them regularly. I am 
writing in haste. It is almost inexplicable to me that I 
seem so often hurried now; but the fact is, whenever 
Arthur is in I must have occupations in which he can 
share, or which will not at least divert my attention from 
him— thus a multitude of little matters get put off till he 
goes out, and then I am quite busy. Good-bye, dear 
Ellen, I hope we shall meet soon.— Yours faithfully, 

C. B. Nicholls. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Haworth, December 26/A, 1854. 

Dear Ellen, — I return the letter. It is, as you say, 
very genuine, truthful, affectionate, maternal — without a 
taint of sham or exaggeration. Mary will love her child 
without spoiling it, I think. She does not make an uproar 
about her happiness either. The longer I live the more 
I suspect exaggerations. I fancy it is sometimes a sort of 
fashion for each to vie with the other in protestations about 
their wonderful fehcity, and sometimes they — fib. I am 
truly glad to hear you are all better at Brookroyd. In 
the course of three or four weeks more I expect to get 
leave to come to you. I certainly long to see you again. 
One circumstance reconciles me to this delay — the 
weather. I do not know whether it has been as bad 
with you as with us, but here for three weeks we have had 
little else than a succession of hurricanes. 

In your last you asked about Mr. Sowden and Sir James, 
I fear Mr. Sowden has little chance of the living; he had 
heard nothing more of it the last time he wrote to Arthur, 
and in a note he had from Sir James yesterday the subject 
is not mentioned. 

You inquire too after Mrs. Gaskell. She has not been 
here, and I think I should not like her to come now till 
summer. She is very busy with her story of North and 
South, 

473 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

I must make this note short that it may not be over- 
weight. Arthur joins me in sincere good wishes for a 
happy Christmas^ and many of them to you and yours. 
He is well^ thank God, and so am I, and he is '' my dear 
boy/'' certainly dearer now than he was six months ago. 
In three days we shall actually have been married that 
length of time! Gk)od-bye. dear Nell. — Yours faithfully. 

C. B. NiCHOLLS. 

At the beginning of 1855 Mr. and Mrs. NichoUs visited 
Sir James Kay-Shuttleworth at Gawthorpe. I know^ of 
only four letters by her, written in this year. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

Ha WORTH, January igth, 1855. 

Dear Ellen, — Since our return from Gawthorpe we 
have had a Mr. Bell, one of Arthur's cousins, staying with 
us. It was a great pleasure. I wish you could have seen 
him and made his acquaintance; a true gentleman by 
nature and cultivation is not after all an everyday thing. 

As to the living of Habergham or Padiham, it appears 
the chance is doubtful at present for anybody. The 
present incumbent wishes to retract his resignation, and 
declares his intention of appointing a curate for two years. 
I fear Mr. Sowden hardly produced a favourable im- 
pression; a strong w^ish was expressed that Arthur could 
come, but that is out of the question. 

I very much wish to come to Brookroyd, and I hope to 
be able to write with certainty and fix Wednesday, the 
31st January, as the day; but the fact is I am not sure 
whether I shall be well enough to leave home. At present 
I should be a most tedious visitor. My health has been 
really very good since my return from Ireland till about 
ten days ago, when the stomach seemed quite suddenly to 
lose its tone; indigestion and continual faint sickness 
have been my portion ever since. Don't conjecture, dear 
Nell, for it is too soon yet, though I certainly never before 
felt as I have done lately. But keep the matter wholly to 
yourself, for I can come to no decided opinion at present. 

474 



Rev. Arthur Bell Nicholls 

I am rather mortified to lose my good looks and grow thin 
as I am doing just when I thought of going to Brookroyd. 
Dear Ellen, I want to see you, and I hope I shall see you 
well. My love to all. — Yours faithfully, 

C. B. Nicholls. 

There were three more letters, but they were written 
in pencil from her deathbed. Two of them are printed 
by Mrs. Gaskell — one to Miss Nussey, the others to Miss 
Wheelwright. Here is the third and last of all. 

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY 

My dear Ellen, — Thank you very much for Mrs. 
Hewitt's sensible clear letter. Thank her too. In much 
her case was wonderfully like mine, but I am reduced to 
greater weakness; the skeleton emaciation is the same. 
I cannot talk. Even to my dear, patient, constant 
Arthur, I can say but few words at once. 

These last two days I have been somewhat better, and 
have taken some beef-tea, a spoonful of wine and water, a 
mouthful of light pudding at different times. 

Dear Ellen, I realise full well what you have gone 
through and will have to go through with poor Mercy. 
Oh, may you continue to be supported and not sink. Sick- 
ness here has been terribly rife. Kindest regards to Mr. 
and Mrs. Clapham, your mother, Mercy. Write when 
you can. — Yours, C. B. Nicholls. 

Little remains to be said. This is not a biography 
but a bundle of correspondence, and I have only to state 
that Mrs. Nicholls died of an illness incidental to child- 
birth on March 31st 1855, and was buried in the Bronte 
tomb in Haworth church. 

It is easy as fruitless to mourn over " unfulfilled 
renown/* but it is not easy to believe that the future 
had any great things in store. Miss Bronte's four novels 
will remain for all time imperishable monuments of her 
power. She had touched with effect in two of them all 
that she knew of her home surroundings, and in two 
others all that was revealed to her of a wider life. More 
she could not have done with equal effect had she lived 

475 



The Brontes and Their Circle 

to be eighty. Hers was, it is true, a sad life, but such 
gifts as these rarely bring happiness with them. It was 
surely something to have tasted the sweets of fame, and 
a fame so indisputably lasting. 

Mr. Nicholls stayed on at Haworth for the six years 
that followed his wife's death. When Mr. Bronte died 
he returned to Ireland. Some years later he married 
again — a cousin, Miss Bell by name. That second 
marriage was one of unmixed blessedness. I found him 
in a home of supreme simplicity and charm, esteemed 
by all who knew him and idolised in his own household. 
It was not difficult to understand that Charlotte Bronte 
had loved him and had fought down parental opposition 
in his behalf. The qualities of gentleness, sincerity, un- 
affected piety, and delicacy of mind were his; and he was 
beautifully jealous, not only for the fair fame of Currer 
Bell, but — what she would equally have loved — for her 
father, who also has had much undue detraction in the 
years that are past. Mr. Nicholls died at Banagher, 
King's Co., Ireland, in 1906. 




THE TEMPLE PRESS, PRINTERS, LETCH WORTH 



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